


The Felix Burton Story, book 1: Feathers, books and prejudgment

by DreoganDragon



Series: The Felix Burton Story [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling, Original Work
Genre: Adventure, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Drama, Fanfiction, Harry Potter - Freeform, Harry Potter Next Generation, Harry Potter Universe, Hogwarts, Humour, Major Original Character(s), Original Character(s), Original Character-centric, Other, Pottercest (Harry Potter), harry potter fan fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-10-07 23:26:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 33,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17375201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreoganDragon/pseuds/DreoganDragon
Summary: One hundred and twenty years after the defeat of Voldemort and his daughter, Delphin, Dreogan Gaunt, signed in Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry from birth, starts his first year in the shadow of his family's actions.  As the threat of another war looms over the Wizarding community Dreogan tries to overcome the prejudice against him and his name.





	1. Chapter 1:  House of pain immemorial

Tucking the green and blue scarf under his black leather trench coat he got out of the car, holding onto the coat’s front and squinting his eyes he entered the derelict looking building.  The driverless car flew off once the doors were shut.  Once inside his eyes remained squinted for another reason, his hands covering his ears.

“We must hurry, no time for weakness.  You’ll get used to the loudness.”  The servant urged him on, walking between the tables and chairs.  Outside the car flew away.

“Even here, where they’ve not seen me before, they go silent and look at me with fear and disdain or plain hatred.”  He thought glancing at the patrons, walking by them without hurry.

“What can I get you?”  The bartender asked looking down at the servant, his hands moving between sink and the dirty glassware.  He followed the man’s eyes on the emblem on his coat, seeing his pupils react to it.

“Why not use that?”  He asked, his right index finger pointing at an object near the bartender’s left hand, on the wooden bar slab.

“In a world of magic, manual labour can be relaxing.”  His reply short, again.

“Nothing, just passing by to get his school supplies.”  His servant’s reply also short and hurried.

“They let him in Hogwarts?  After what his siblings did?”  A patron almost screamed, her eyes bulging outwards, her voice high-pitched and throat tightening.

“Since birth and even before he had a name.”  The Servant’s face deformed as if something foul was trapped inescapably beneath his nose.

“Friends in high places and gold will get you anything nowadays…”  She scoffed, the implication making her lips curl in a smile.

“Blood.  I’m sure even one such as you can comprehend blood.”  A lifetime of servitude with the boy’s father and family had taught him how to play the game amongst players far superior to her.

“Why you…!”  Her sentence cut off as a man sitting next to her placed a hand on her shoulder cutting her off from standing up.

“Let them go, they are a dying breed, the so called “pure bloods”, too much inbreeding has fucked them up, while we half-bloods or muggle-born are becoming stronger.  Let them go, all they have left are their words.”

“We know about breeding, what could you possibly know about the subject?”  A teenage boy’s voice came in from behind them.

“Harold Nott…isn’t your mother a half-blood?”  The man sitting next to the woman asked him with a sneer.

“In the good old days, I’d have you killed for this insolence….and who knows maybe if his father succeeds where the eldest son failed…I will have that pleasure yet.” Harold’s lips curled into a sneer, his cheekbones rising and his amber eyes slanting, and his hands crossed in front of his chest.

He swallowed hard, feeling all eyes on him.

“They failed, and my brother and sister are dead, according to the ministry of magic’s reports, I’m afraid you won’t be having the good old days back, anytime soon.”

“You sound happy for that.”  Harold commented, his face distorted as his eyes moved from the patrons to him.  “Fortunately, I do not share your conviction of their untimely demise, mudblood heir to a glorious pure-blood family name.”

“Share it, or don’t.  I don’t care.  Averill let’s go.”  He walked to the end of the corridor where Averill pressed the combination of bricks opening the wall to Diagon Alley.

Stepping through the opened brick-way, he grimaced, his hands darting to pinch his ears shut.

“come on, let us get you your supplies.”  Averill walked amongst the stall owners and shoppers, pressing and pushing his way through.

“The bank?  Can’t we use credit?”

“They won’t accept it after what happened with your father and brother.” Averill walked towards Gringotts.

“Step-brother.”  Dreogan was quick to add, the top of his nose wrinkling and upper lip rising.

“step-brother, indeed Master Dreogan, and the pure blooded one.”

“I hate my name, and don’t forget who’s the servant around here, Averill.”

“I believe that is…was your father’s desire, sir and unfortunately for you I have full power from your father, as patriarch of this family, over you.”  They entered the bank.

“What, my name or me hating it?”

“Yes.”  The servant replied, without breaking his stride.

Twenty minutes later they exited it.

“Time to get you a wand, something fitting one of your station.”  He heard Averill tell him, entering Oleander’s.

“What station?  My family are criminals, not royalty.”  Averill frowned, his lips twisting upwards, without a reply.

“It is not the wizard who chooses the wand…”

“I know.”  Averill interrupted the, young, store owner.  “Where is your grandfather?”

“Retired, I’m it now, if ya don’t like it…tough.”  Dreogan snorted.

“Walk over here, young Master…what’s your name?”  Oleander pointed at a place by the desk register, in front of the wand-full shelves.

“Dreogan…Gaunt.”  Dreogan stood where instructed.

“Interesting…you behave as if I should somehow know you.”

“You don’t?  Everyone else seems to know me and my family name.”

“I know the family name, who doesn’t, but you I have not met before and I make wands, not idle gossip.”  Oleander replied, walking over.

Dreogan nodded, his lips curving in a faint smile as his eyes turned to the boxes the man had left on the table.

“So, let us see then, what wand will choose you, young Master Dreogan. Let us start with a maple and phoenix feather wand, nine inches.  Perhaps you are a traveler by nature?” Oleander opened one of the boxes passing the golden-brown wand to Dreogan.  No sooner than Dreogan had wrapped his left hand around it and the wand flew away and back into its box.

“Lovely, even wands don’t want me, now.”  Dreogan commented, clenching his fists.

“Such apathy for one so young.  Phoenix feathers are known to be…picky.  Let us try this one, then.  Sycamore with Dragon heartstring, 12 inches.”

Dreogan grasped at the wand which almost instantly started firing fireballs around.

“No, nope, not this one, then.”  Oleander took it back with one hand, putting out the flames with his wand.

Ten wands later they were no closer to finding Dreogan his wand.  Twenty wands after that Oleander was rubbing the top of his nose with thumb and index finger, his eyes closed.

“And perhaps the universe has deigned that Gaunts, after generations of fucked-up, dark wizards, should have no more wands?”

“Such sarcasm…”

“…for one so young?”  Oleander chuckled.

“Indeed.  Okay, this wand, let us try this one.”  Oleander handed him an opened box.

“No explanation of it, this time?”

“Pick it up.”  Oleander half-ordered him.

Dreogan looked at the opened, velvet box and the dark brown and silvery wand spiraling itself to a pointy edge, like two horns locked in embrace, inside it.

“Are you sure?  This thing looks ready to stab me to death…not that I’d mind, much.”

“Pick it…”

“Up.  I know.  Well, here goes nothing.”  Dreogan picked up the wand feeling it heavy and light at the same time.

“It’s glowing…from the inside….and why do I feel incredible warmth and cold at the same time?”

“Fascinating!”  Oleander exclaimed.  “I never thought this wand would ever find it’s match in a wizard.  One of my first creations after taking over the shop and I thought it…defective.  It is not often a wand has two different kinds of wood and core materials combined in one.  Hawthorn with yew and Unicorn tail hair with chimera mane hair for the core.  Maybe both wand and master are supposed to discover one’s selves?”

“Aren’t Chimeras creatures of darkness? Their manes used for dark arts and the likes?”  Dreogan nearly threw the wand back at the table.  “I want nothing to do with Black magic.”

“A wand is only a tool, and this one will have to decide its nature as much as will you.  The wand has chosen you, now Hogwarts will teach you how to use it.”

“Using it is not the problem…”  Dreogan eyed it worried.

“Young Master Dreogan, it is only a tool, it will cast the spells you perform.”  Oleander bent lower closer to Dreogan’s face, a compassionate look about him.  “If you do not cast black magic spells or jinxes it won’t do it on its own accord.”  The man tried to assuage the boy’s fear.

“Fine.  Averill let’s go.”

Dreogan picked up the wand and stormed outside, nearly bumping into another boy in the entrance to the shop.

“We could have bought second hand robes…”  Dreogan whined two hours later exiting Twilfitt and Tattings.

“Absolutely not.”  Averill replied, holding on to a cauldron, and several other items.  “You are a Gaunt, your school uniforms must also have the family emblem as well as the school one.  It is tradition.”

“Yeah right, see how fast I break that tradition once I get my hands on the robes….”  Dreogan whispered.  “What remains?  Books and an owl?”

“Indeed, Master Gaunt.”

“For fucks sake, Dreogan!”  The boy hissed at his servant’s use of his surname.

Averill ignored him walking into Flourish and Blotts.

“This store has not changed in a hundred years, I bet you.”  A voice came in from Dreogan’s left.

“It hasn’t.”  Dreogan replied after a fleeting, uninterested glance at the voice’s owner, a boy his age.

“Ah well, I think that’s great!”  The boy continued cheerfully.

“If you say so.”  Dreogan replied searching through the shelves for the books he wanted.

“Advanced hexes and jinxes?  Those are not first year, are they?  My name’s Charles by the way!  Charles Blake.”

“Fascinating.  And no, they’re not.”  Dreogan picked up a book about first year spells and moved to the till.

“You didn’t pick up that book about advanced hexes.”  Charles commented walking besides him.

“Your observation skills are good.”

“What did you do with your wand, though?”

“Nothing of importance.  I am in a hurry, if you don’t mind.”

“Okay, I’ll see you in Hogwarts.  I still can’t believe all this magic stuff is real!”

Dreogan couldn’t help but smile, Charles’ grin was contagious.

“Give it a year or two, you’ll wish it wasn’t.”  Having paid for the book he exited the shop to meet Averill.  “Animal next?”  Averill nodded.

“That one.”  Dreogan pointed to an Augurey on the store’s glass showcase.

“It will be difficult to handle during winter.”  Dreogan motioned his hand dismissively at Averill.

“It’ll mostly be in the owlery in Hogwarts.  I don’t care if the other owls can’t sleep well.”

“We can buy you a phoenix if it’s a phoenix you want.  This one’s tears will not heal you.”

“Exactly, besides I like this one’s silvery blue feathers and fiery eyes.  Now purchase it and let us leave this place.  Everything else’s bought, yes?”

Averill entered the shop without reply and exited it a few minutes later with the silver-feathered bird in a cage.

A week later they were on the platform nine and three quarters along with the other students and their parents saying their goodbyes.

Averill loaded his stuff into the carriage, with Dreogan taking a seat in one of the carriages, in silence.

A boy Dreogan recognised as Charles came in the wagon, sitting next to him.

“All other seats taken?”  Dreogan inquired.

“Huh?  Uhm, no.  But I don’t know anyone else and we’ve met in Diagon alley.”  Charles replied with a grin.

“Okay.”  Charles followed Dreogan’s eyes outside the window, the station slowly disappearing.

“I’m so excited about this, are you?  I mean magic!”

“Sure, very exciting to leave…home behind for a few months.”

“Is it true we get to learn to fly with brooms?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Why is no one else sitting with us?  My breath doesn’t smell does it?”

Dreogan had to look at the boy after a question like that one.  “Not that I can smell…you’re weird.”

“Says the person who tries not to smile like all the damn time.”

“What is there to smile about?”

“Life!  We’re kids, why not?”

Dreogan’s reply never came yet their conversation carried throughout their eight hours journey to Hogwarts.

“Come on, we’re here.  That’s the train’s horn sounding.”  Dreogan told Charles standing up.”

“Oh man, it’s so good stretching my legs!  I didn’t think it’d take that long.”  Charles’ joints cracking as their owner extended his arms above his head, his fingers interlocked.

“London is in the south, Hogwarts is in Scotland, logical.”  Dreogan’s voice came forth strained, his hands stretching above his head.

“This way!  First years this way to the boathouse!”  A man’s voice sounded through all the carriages as they exited theirs.

Amidst the figures and bodies of the other students they saw a middle-aged man with long silver hair and beardless face with narrow features and deep amber eyes with hues of green.

“Woah!  Look at those dogs!  They are huge!”  Charles remarked standing in front of three large black dogs and one grey one, sitting on the right and left of the man.

“Tibetan mastiffs?  Here?”  A girl asked behind them, her voice high-pitched.

“Indeed, follow me to the boathouse.”  The man turned on his heels, the dogs rising in an instant.

“I am Ives Jordan.  I am the keeper of keys of Hogwarts and should you…all reach year four I might just be teaching you defense against the dark arts.”

Dreogan followed Charles’ look to see Ives staring at him.  He met the man’s gaze, holding it.

“Aren’t we taking defense against the dark arts from this year, sir?”  A plump girl with pony tails asked timidly.

“You most definitely are…but fourth year is where things get… _interesting_.”  His smirk made her gulp.

They walked to the boathouse and took their places in the boats.  When all the first-year students had taken their seats, the boats started rowing themselves out of the boathouse and across the black lake, the stars shining above them in the clear autumn sky.

“Will you look at that!”  A boy next to him in the boat pointed at the lit castle in front of them.  Dreogan saw Charles’ face grin-full at the sight of the castle.

“It is something.”  He whispered.

Upon arriving at the castle’s docks Ives led them to the Castle’s entrance where he knocked on the heavy-looking, iron-enhanced gates.  A woman in her fifties opened them.

“Fresh meat, ma’am.”  Said Ives said with an evil yet playful smirk.

Charles and Dreogan had to giggle at her rolling her eyes at his comment.

“Thank you, Ives.  As…colourful as ever.  I’ll take them from here.”  She closed the gates behind them.  “I am Professor Diana Horsewood and I’ll have what I am sure is going to be a pleasure teaching you all Herbology.  Follow me, please.”  Said Professor, explaining the Hogwarts houses, rules and house cup on their way to the Great Hall.

“She’s tall!”  Charles whispered, suppressing a giggle.  “Me mum’s tall but she must be even taller than mum’s 180cm!”

“She, is a professor and you’d be correct, pity I can’t give you house points Mister…?”

“Charles, Charles Blake, ma’am!”  Charles beamed, making her hide a smile.

Her eyes lingered on Dreogan before looking at the other first years.

“Don’t think she likes me much, not peculiar though.”  Replied Dreogan.

“Nah mate, why do you say that?”

“She nearly smiled when you replied, then her face darkened when she saw me.”

“Naw, I’m sure it’s your idea.”  Charles and Dreogan chatted in hushed whispers.

“You will be called in momentarily for the sorting ceremony, please wait here until then.”  She turned and left.

Professor Horsewood returned ten minutes later, opening the Great Hall’s doors.  She walked them in, letting them stand between the rectagonal students’ tables and in front of the teachers’ table, with the Headmistress in the middle looking at the first years intently.

“My idea or is she looking at us a tad too much?”  Charles whispered in his ear.

“Yes, sure…”  Dreogan dismissed Charles yet locked eyes with the Headmistress for a second.

Dreogan looked around the candle-lit room, candles hovering all over the place, his eyes drifting from the students sitting in the tables before looking up to the ceiling.

“I heard it’s enchanted to show the…”  The same plump girl from earlier said, Dreogan interrupted her.

“…outside sky, yes I am aware.  How peculiar for this part of the country…it’s raining.”  Dreogan finished her sentence.

“There must be some few thousand candles!”  Charles stated, his jaw slacking.

“You’ll swallow a fly.”  Dreogan teased him.

“Dad always tells me that, who knows maybe they taste nice.”  Charles grinned at him.  Dreogan had to roll his eyes.

It was hard not feeling awkward, having an entire room-full of people staring at you and to anyone paying attention, Dreogan seemed the only one not looking terrified of the experience, even if he was feeling stressed.

In front of them, and the teacher’s table there was a stool and on top of there was placed what Dreogan knew to be the sorting hat, the method of Hogwarts for sorting new students into their respective houses based on qualities and personality traits.

At first all was silent, the teachers and older students knowing what came next, then through a mouth-like opening the hat started singing.

 

Rising from the age of Darkness,

Four Wizards started a school of magic,

And you might ask which their greatest achievement was,

 

Dreogan had lost interest, not even listening to the hat’s song, thinking his own thoughts when he heard Professor Horsewood’s voice.

“When I call out your name, you will come forth, put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted.”  She said holding a parchment.

First came a rather queasy-looking boy which was sorted into Slytherin, then a short, scrawny girl.  “GRYFFINDOR!”  The hat screamed.

“Charles Blake.”  Charles walked to the stool looking timid.

“An easy decision this is not.  Much courage you have, and fire within you.  I could place you in Gryffindor but…HUFFLEPUFF!”  The sorting hat exclaimed making the Hufflepuff table cheer.

“Anneke Joymother.”  Said Professor Horsewood and a girl that looked a bit too sure of herself if insecure, walked to the sorting hat.  The hat had not even touched her head when it screamed “SLYTHERIN!”.  She did not look pleased with the outcome.

Laurence Brifriar was sorted into Ravenclaw, a strong-looking boy with long red hair that fell everywhere on his head and face.  His older sister cheered him into the Ravenclaw table.

Three names later came the moment Dreogan dreaded.

“Dreogan…” Professor Horsewood started saying his name.

“Oh for…please don’t say my whole name, please don’t…”  Dreogan whispered under his breath, looking at her with a pleading look plastered all over his face.

“…Delphin Cadmus Gaunt Riddle Lestrange” The Great Hall went dead silent as Dreogan felt goosebumps coursing through his spine with all eyes fixed on him.

“Lovely.”  He said and with two long strides reached the sorting hat, put it on and sat hard on the stool.

“This is a hard decision to make…hardest one in good long while.”  Said the sorting hat after five minutes of complete silence.  “I have not seen such bravery since the twentieth century and such cunning and wit since before that.  You have no ambition for power and yet…Gryffindor, you’d fit nicely in there, but you’d be well placed in Ravenclaw as well and Huf…yes that might be it!”  The sorting hat contemplated in his ear, a voice almost only he could hear.  “H…” The Sorting hat begun to say aloud when it stuttered and faltered for a moment.  “SLYTHERIN!”  It screamed.

Dreogan removed it from his head, throwing it back on the stool and storming to the Slytherin table.

A few names later and all the students sorted, and the Headmistress rose from her golden chair, looking at all of them.

“Another year starts, another feast to enjoy and things to learn.  But before that, a few notices for our new students.”  She said sternly, her black hair falling in braids behind her head.  “The dark forest is strictly forbidden to all pupils and especially it’s heart, where the most dangerous of beasts lie.”  Dreogan thought she had looked at him as she said that last part, but he shook it off.

“Mr. Knott, our caretaker would like me to remind you that no magic is allowed in the corridors between classes.”  This time there could be no doubt she was looking at Harold Nott’s way.  He looked unphased by this, even smug.

“Quidditch trials start on the second week of term in the training grounds.  Anyone interested in trying contact our new flying teacher, Curt Willows who used to be a chaser for the Appleby Arrows.  And finally, due to last year’s events the restricted section of the library won’t be open to students this year.  The rest of the library will open in a month or two…after restoration works have finished.”  She let that sink in for a moment.  “Now, let us sing the Hogwarts song, enjoy the feast and off to bed, classes start with the morrow!”  She declared before sitting down.

Dreogan ignored the song, staying silent through the chorus.  When the song was over the Headmistress clapper her hands making most of the first year’s gasp and “woah!” as the empty plates before them now filled with food of all kinds and imagination.

“What happened last year?  Charles Blake by the way!”  Charles asked an older boy sitting next to him.

“Ask him, I don’t know nothing.”  The boy evaded, pointing at Dreogan.  “Garrick, Garrick Nostrum.”  He said before returning to his food.

Dreogan ate in silence, this time not of his choice, as no Slytherin sitting near him allowed for any conversation.  He sat straight and ate fast, wolfing down as much as he could as fast as he could.

“Slow down mate, no one’s gonna eat your dinner, no one wants whatever you’ve touched!”  A fifth year-looking boy sitting opposite him taunted him making those students nearby laugh.

“You did not have my brother or sister for siblings, you’d not be yapping your trap otherwise.  No, you’d be cowering away in the corner wishing for death to liberate you.”  Dreogan replied in complete apathy, seemingly unaffected by the boy’s attempt to taunt him.

“What did they do?  Did he make you cry, little boy?  Not like they used the Cruciatus Curse on you.”  The boy scoffed.

Dreogan did not reply, he simply locked eyes with him for a few seconds before returning to his food.

No one else attempted conversation until the feast was over and the prefects led the first years to their dormitories.

 

*

 

First class the next morning was potions, an old odd man taught it, half deaf and derelict.  Standing on one good foot and a silver cane.  “Victor Turney.  Get your quills out, no time to lose.  Who knows what the uses of Flobberworm Mucus?”

When no one raised their hands Turney pointed at Dreogan who remained silent.

“You come from a -supposedly- pure-blood family, Mr. Gaunt.  You should know this.”  Came the slow-voiced reply from Professor Turney with a neutral tone.

Dreogan exhaled deeply, “it is used to thicken potions and it is used in wiggenweld potion, professor.”  He said, dismayed.

“Very well, 10 points to Slytherin.  Class get your quills out, notes time.”  Said Turney, moving his wand at the blackboard behind him.  The sound of chalk and quill scribbling filled the sparse-lit dungeons’ room.

“So, how do you know this stuff?  Your parents taught you?”  Asked Charles.

“No, oppressed by father.  And it is only Flobberworm, not Chimera…”  Dreogan tried to write down his notes and ignore Charles.

“I have no idea what that is!  Hell, until a month…”  Charles whispered but cut himself short on seeing Professor Turney turn his eyes on them.

“It’s a worm, obviously.”  Dreogan muttered under his breath.

“Hey, you’re good at this whispering thing!”  Charles tried imitating him.

“Well, it’s no matter.  Now, we’re friends and you can teach me all about it!”  Charles beamed at Dreogan who gave a sigh.  For the rest of the lesson they learned about bezoars and how to brew a forgetfulness potion or tried to.  Only a Ravenclaw boy, Dreogan and Anneke had a concoction even remotely resembling one by class’ end.  And Dreogan’s cauldron smelled of something foul, which did not earn him ten points for his house, as did the other two students’ efforts.

“Potions is hard man!”  Charles exclaimed gathering his things.  “And we have this stuff three times a damn week!”

“We’ll just have to study more, then.”

“Joy.”

“You’re funny when you speak Dreogan.”  Dreogan tried hiding a smile.

“I’m always funny!  It’s known everywhere.”  Charles quipped.

“I hadn’t noticed.”  Dreogan tried -and failed- to remain serious.

“Admit it!  I’m a good influence!”  Charles beamed.

“I admit to nothing.”  Replied Dreogan, coldly, well semi-coldly.

They continued to talk, walking to their next class, charms.

“Sit in everyone, take your seats.”  Professor Umberto Rawthorn, waited for them in the charms classroom, standing up between the two rows of seats.  Dreogan thought him to be of average height and weight.

“So much to learn so little time, come on, come on do hurry and take your seats.”  He told them, smiling yet Dreogan detected no warmth in his eyes.

Dreogan sat down with Charles on one side and Ethel Clifford, the plump Hufflepuff girl on the other one.

“Wands out, let us see what you can do…we will start with the severing spell.”  Professor Rawthorn told them looking at each one of them.

“Diffindo is the incantation, pronounced deef-IN-doe and your wand should move like so.”  Umberto flicked his wand two times, up and down in a zigzag motion.  An instant later a dress on a mannequin in the center of class got torn in half right on the middle.

“Give it a test.  And watch where you point your wands, given enough will, intent and magic power and you can tear out pieces of each other.  Diffindo is not a curse but like many other tools in the hands of humans it can be used for more than its intended purpose.”  Professor Rawthorn told them grimly.

They spent the next half hour trying, mostly in vain, to cast the spell with only a few of them succeeding.

Charles waved his wand nigh screaming “DIFFINDO!” and a piece of the dress, a small one, fell to the floor.

A moment later Ethel succeeded, producing a huge smile as well as another piece of the dress falling to the floor.

“Very well done, not an easy spell for sure.  Even for those who are not new to magic.”  Dreogan felt the Professor’s glare on him.

Dreogan felt his lips curve in a sardonic grin.

Twenty minutes and some parchments of notes later Dreogan sat, between classes, eating his lunch in the Great Hall.

“Oh! Nice roast chicken!”  Charles sat next to him in the Slytherin table in the Great Hall.

“Yghou should gho sit at your House’s table.”  Replied Dreogan with a mouth-full of pancakes making Charles laugh.

“Why?  Others are sitting cross-houses.”  Charles shrugged.

“You’re not Slytherin, go to your table.”  Dreogan swallowed.

“Don’t look so worried, it’s only lunch.  Besides…I dunno nothing of this world.  So, we’re gonna be best of friends and you are going to teach me!”  Charles announced grinning widely.

“I’m sure your friends over at Hufflepuff table will be more than happy to help you.  They can teach you all you need to know.  How can you not know anything?”  Dreogan inquired flabbergasted.

“No one else in my family is or was a wizard or witch before me…to my knowled…”  Charles was unable to finish his sentence as Dreogan clasped a hand over his mouth.

“Do not say this in this table!”  He pleaded, clearly stressed.

“See!  I know nothing, ya hafta help me out here, mate!”  Charles replied, removing Dreogan’s hand from his mouth.

“Slytherins are NOT in the habit of helping weaklings, least of all mudbl…”  Dreogan looked murderous as the owner of the voice, behind them, clasped at his neck, having lost the ability to speak, her eyes wide in horror.

“Mrs. Ariana Nott, not a day in Hogwarts and you get in trouble, ten points from Slytherin and one-month detention.”  A teacher said coming over from the teacher’s table.

Ariana left, daggers coming out of her eyes, her fists clenched by her sides.

“Who’s that?”  Charles asked Dreogan.

“You really do not know anything do you?”  It was not an accusation by Dreogan who felt astonished at his friend’s complete lack of knowledge about the wizarding world, and Hogwarts.

“Only limited stuff…”  Charles replied, looking gloom.

“What class do you have next?”

“Flying lesson, I’m so excited!  Don’t all first years have the same subjects?”

“Same subjects yes, necessarily same days and hours, no.  Walk with me?  Don’t know why you’d wan…”

Charles cut him off by standing up, grabbing him by his elbow and dragging him off.  Grinning.

“Cool, lead the way Mr. Grim-face.”

“I’m not a Grim-face!”  Dreogan protested.

“You are too.  I’ve stated it so.”

“That’s not how this works.”  Dreogan was trying not to laugh. “What is it about him that makes it so easy to drop eleven years’ worth of mental defenses?”  He pondered internally.

“Does so, my friendship, my rules.”  Dreogan rolled his eyes but resisted not.

“This castle is Soooo cool!” Charles exclaimed as they exited the Great Hall.

“It’s not that cool yet.”

A loud noise originated from Charles, having facepalmed.  “No, silly.  Where have you been locked up all this time?  Even other wizarding kids around here know some “normal” slangs!”  He was not being sarcastic, yet the effect was immediate on Dreogan’s face.

“Okay.”  He shrugged looking elsewhere.

“Tell you what!  I’ll teach you my world’s stuff and you’ll teach me all of this!”  Charles pointed to their surroundings with both hands.

Dreogan eyed him through the corner of his eye before turning his head round.

  “Tell _you_ what, if by the end of the day you still want to be my friend…deal.”  He stifled a chuckle.

“Deal.” Charles shook his hand before bumping fists with him.  “I’ll start!  Cool is an expression indicating something someone said is amazing or great or funny in a good way.”  Charles explained.  “Your turn now, what was that girl about to call me?  It sounded as if it was bad for some reason?”

Dreogan let out a breath.  “You know the word muggle, yes? -Charles nodded- and you know how you are muggle-born, indicating that your parents are not wizards? -Charles nodded again-.  So, in our world there are few insults as nasty as calling someone mudblood.  It means one’s not from a “pure-blood” lineage, therefore one’s unclean, not pure or a “proper” wizard or witch.”  Dreogan finished shaking his head in dismay.

“Oh, so it’s the wizarding world’s equivalent of racism, bigotry and fascism.”  Charles stated.  Dreogan nodded.

“Do you know what the internet is?”

Dreogan shook his head.  “I haven’t the foggiest.”  Charles explained as best and plainly he could.

“Why do the others in my class, and in other houses seem to fear you?”

“Pure-blood bullshit…my great grandmother was the daughter of one of the darkest, evilest wizards that have ever been.  Father and daughter, Tom Riddle and Dolphin caused a lot of trouble, pain, suffering and death until they were stopped successively by a wizard named Harry Potter and his friends and allies.  Dolphin rotted away in Azkaban, but she managed to give birth to a child before getting locked up…”

“They fear you because of acts committed by your ancestors?  Then they should fear me as well, my ancestors fought in Iraq and Afghanistan, those were countries by the way.”

“My brother and sister -allegedly- died last year trying to organize a new revolt against the world’s ministries of magic and consolidate power for the pure-blood families, although I do not know how they could have done so without outside help, as they were still students in here, in Hogwarts.”  Dreogan hang his head.  Charles was unsure if it was out of shame or sadness, but he patted his friend on the shoulder a time or two.

“I don’t get it…”

“We are all afraid he will continue where his siblings left off, whatever they were trying to acquire from the restricted section of the library.  Or, assuming they are not dead, maybe he will let them inside the castle, so they can finish whatever it is they were trying to do, and the Headmistress stopped them.”  A boy somewhat shorter than them with blue eyes and dark blond hair said to their right.

“That’s stupid, Emerick.  Fear someone for things they have not done or because you think they may or may not do in the future?  That’s stupid.”  It was the first time Dreogan had seen Charles lose his funny and cheerful disposition, his face distorted in disgust.

“Maybe, but then again your sister did not die, when his siblings wreaked havoc last year.”  He replied before walking faster away from them and through the arched gateway to the training grounds.

“So, you believe they are in hiding?”

“I never said they are in hiding, only that I don’t believe they are dead as for father…he is in Azkaban very much alive, and probably planning what to do next.”  They followed Emerick through the arched gates.

“Ugh…I hate flying.”  Dreogan stated.  “And brooms.”

“Hello, everyone!”  A man in his mid-thirties welcomed the first years.  “My name’s Curt Willows and I will be your flying instructor and if anyone of you get selected in your house’s quidditch team I will be the referee in the House Cup Quidditch cup games.  Now to the side of a broom and call to it.  It’s simple just stretch out your arm and “Up!””

For the next hour they were taught the basics of flying and caring for their broom.  Dreogan hated it, Charles loved it.

 

*

 

Dreogan walked in the Slytherin common room, it was late night.

There was only a girl sitting in one of the sofas, first year one.  He started walking towards the dormitories.

“Hi.”  She spoke to him in a slow whisper.

“H…hi.”  He replied.

“You will cost Slytherin points, if they catch you out after hours.”  She told him, reading a book about potions.

“I know, but I prefer it to having to face all the Slytherin kids.”  Dreogan shrugged in apathy.

“They are supposed to be our family, in this place.”  She noted somewhat distraught.

“Then, I wish I was an orphan, everywhere.”  Dreogan stated matter-of-factly.

She did not reply immediately.  “My name’s Anneke Joymother.”  She gave a weak smile.  “What’s your name?”.

“You don’t know or are you trying to make fun of me?”

“I’m not good with names.”

“Dreogan…Gaunt.”

“Oh…I see.  My uncle doesn’t like your father much.  They think I don’t listen when they fight with my father.”

“Half the wizarding community fear my father the other half hate my siblings for failing.”

“And you’re caught in the middle, in a prison not of your own choosing.”  She replied mournfully.

“Where did you hear that?”  Her reply peaked his interest.

“My mother.”

“Why does your mother talk of me?”

“Not you, her.”  Anneke looked away.

“I’m sorry to hear that, do you know it is inscribed in my family coat of arms? -she shook her head- House of pain immemorial.”

“That is awful, why?  Why would you have something so painful?”


	2. Chapter 2: Courage’s Many Forms, Part 1

Dreogan sat on one of the courtyard’s benches, studying with Charles when something got his attention out of his eye’s corner.

“Three weeks into the term and these assholes are still bullying younger kids.”  He retorted standing up, his attention now on the two older Slytherin boys walking towards a first year Hufflepuff.

The boy saw them coming and tried to run for it, but older boys and longer legs run faster.  Catching up to him they shoved him to the ground.

“What have we got here?  Ickle lil’ Huffy puffy sissy boyo!”  One of the Slytherins said revealing his wand.  With a shake and an incantation, the Hufflepuff found himself dangling upside down on the air, crying.

“Hey!  Stop that!”  Turning around the boy abusing the First-year Hufflepuff let the boy fall on the ground, now levitating Charles off it with a sneer.

“Hey assholes, why don’t you pick on someone your own size?  Or are you afraid?”  Dreogan placed himself between the older boys and the first-year, looking at them defiantly.

“Step aside Gaunt-boy, this doesn’t concern you.”  The other boy ordered, looking menacing.

“I beg to differ, this is my friend you’re messing with.  Go away and I need not hurt you.”  Others had gathered round, gasping and whispering.

“You?  Hurt me?  Harold Nott, a Fourth year?  Ictusii!”  Harold aimed his wand at Dreogan casting the stinging jinx.

Charles saw Dreogan stand between him, the Hufflepuff First-year and the older boys, his fists clenching by his sides, as the skin on his face and arms started to swell and turn a redder hue.

“That the best you can do, Fourth-year?”

“Draw your wand, if you can!  Flipendo!”

Dreogan staggered back from the knockback jinx hitting him square on his stomach.

“Unimaginative brute,” Dreogan laughed.  “I don’t need a wand to cause you pain.  I need only to mail your dear mother and my third cousin twice removed, about how you are running around striking the son of the man she worships more than your own father, and as the future leader of the Imperium Arcana.”

“You wouldn’t dare!”  Harold tried to hide his horror at the prospect, his eyes dilating.  “Besides you do that, and your father would also learn of how you are protecting half-bloods and muggleborns!”

Dreogan laughed aloud.  “Difference is my father already hates me and I could not care any less if I tried, what he does to me…would do to me if he wasn’t in Azkaban where he belongs.”  He locked eyes with Harold.  “Your parents, on the other hand, do not hate you…yet.”  Dreogan’s voice cool and calm, a faint sneer curving his lips.

Growling in frustration Harold cast a spell on Dreogan who doubled over before straightening up again.

“The punch hex?  One of my brother’s earliest inventions, you’ll have to do better than that.”  Dreogan whimpered but cried not.

Harold’s lackey tried casting a spell at the Hufflepuff boy, when he started vomiting slugs, kneeling over.

“Mr. Nott and Mr. Harris.  Twenty points from Slytherin.  Each, and two months detention oh and no Hogsmeade for either of you this year.  Be gone.”  It was the Headmistress walking up to them from behind Nott and Harris.  With Harold and his friend gone she turned her attention to Dreogan, his hands and face swollen from Nott’s jinx.

She pointed her wand at him, flicked her wrist and the swelling began to subside.

“Mr. Gaunt, it would seem the apple can fall far from the tree, I’d give you points but it would be counterproductive considering so…20 points to Hufflepuff.”

Charles stood up grinning.  Dreogan’s face remained neutral.

Nott and Harris left eyeing the Headmistress and Dreogan.

“You sure you’ll be okay with them in the same house?  They looked like they could murder you with their eyes.”  Charles asked Dreogan.

“Bullies they might be but Harold’s not stupid.  He knows if his family learned of this they would be rather _unhappy_ with him.  So, I’m going to use this against him for as long as I can.”  Dreogan grinned for the first time since school’s start.

“Then again maybe the said apple did not fall that far from the tree, after all.”  The headmistress commented dryly.

“I am nothing like my father, and I never will be.”  He spat at her, his face darkening.  “He and my siblings are psychopaths with the empathy of a clam.”

“I believe you have classes to attend to?  Tardiness is a sign of a dull mind.”  Came her reply.  Giving them a nod, she left.

“Eh?  What?”  Dreogan’s head snapped to the Headmistress.

“What is it?  I’ve never seen someone’s smile vanishing as fast as the Headmistress’ just did.”  Charles asked, dusting his clothes.

“Nevermind. Let’s go we’ll be late for class.”  The Hufflepuff boy had left earlier, at the first chance that had presented itself to him.

It was a short walk to the Defense against the Dark arts classroom.

“Oh cool, we learn about vampires, hags and ghouls today!”  Charles beamed, and so they did for the next hour, as Professor Cooper taught them about identifying, protecting against and healing from them.

“You are very concentrated when it comes to taking notes.”  Charles declared after the class had finished, and they were gathering their books and stuff.

“Thank you, I guess?”  Came Dreogan’s hesitant reply.

“It’s weird, cool but weird.”  Charles continued.

“What is weird?”  Dreogan raised an eyebrow.

“Your notes, I’ve never seen anything like this before.  It’s like you “put” words in each other forming shapes?  And then the shapes form one larger shape?”  Charles turned and tilted his head to follow the corners the words in Dreogan’s notes made on the parchment.  “From what I can tell each shape is a different subject?  Paragraph?”

“I dunno, I’ve written like this ever since I can remember.”  Dreogan shrugged.  “It’s just sort of how it comes to my mind when I write, like this is how it’s supposed to be?  I dunno, I’ve not really put any thought to it.”

“How does it work?”  Charles tried peering into Dreogan’s parchment rolls, squinting his eyes to make out the small letters.

“I pick up the quill, dip it in ink and write in the parchment.”  Dreogan quipped, with as serious a look as he could muster.

“No shit, really?  I mean your system, silly!”  Charles shoved him playfully.

“I know, you are easy to tease.  I don’t know why I write like this.  I always have but I don’t remember when I started to.”

“How does it work?”  Charles insisted, looking mighty curious.

Dreogan seemed to think for a moment before he replied.  “Memory in circles, remembering in squares, emotions in polygons.”  staring at nothing in particular.  “Let’s go, we’ll be late for lunch.”  Dreogan finished, shaking his head like snapping out of a reverie.

They walked to the Great Hall, to eat lunch with Charles trying to pry more information about his notes, from Dreogan.  Without much success.

After lunch they had a flying lesson with the rest of the Friday free.  Seeing as it was September still and warm they decided to head to the fields by the black lake and hang out, talk and just frolic about like kids only know how.

An hour into it a group of First-years, a couple of Ravenclaw boys, a Gryffindor girl and Hufflepuff girl and boy, walked towards them.

“Heya Charles.”  One of the Ravenclaw boys greeted him.  A boy, slightly shorter than Charles with blue, sparkling eyes and dark blond hair.

“Hey Emerick!”

“Hi.”  Dreogan said, trying to offer his hand for a shake at the Hufflepuff girl who ignored him, while the others eyed him cautiously.

Dreogan sat at the ground next to Charles, as Charles caught on a conversation on the latest gossip the First-years had to offer about older kids, the Professors and the spells they had learned so far.

“You mean to tell me, Professor Mrs.-I-am-so-tough Horsewood used to smile and joke in class?  What happened?”  Charles asked the Gryffindor girl causing everyone to clam up and look awkwardly at Dreogan.

“What?”  Charles looked at faces of those near him, looking for answers, seeing them all turn their heads, one by one.

“My brother happened, last year.  You know, him killing people and so on.”  Dreogan broke the silence.

“Yeah, so?”  Charles raised an eyebrow.

“One of the people who was killed was Professor’s seventh year daughter, she happened to be in the library at the time and she…well…”  The Hufflepuff girl completed the explanation to Charles.  Dreogan looked away.

Slowly but surely all the kids from the group had sat as far as they could from Dreogan, despite his and Charles best efforts to make conversation, avoiding eye contact and speaking to him despite his best effort.

“You need to leave.”  Came the request Dreogan dreaded.

“No, and you call yourself Ravenclaw?  That’s how Slytherin, usually, behave!”  Charles told the Ravenclaw boy, as the others remained silent.

“Charles, it’s okay, let it be.”  Dreogan sat up, readying to honour the boy’s entreat.  “You can’t fill a cup that’s already full or change a mind that’s already made up.”

“You guys are idiotic jerks!  Dreogan’s done no harm to you nor should he be blamed for his family’s bullshit, and you all are assholes for behaving like this towards him, what makes any of you different than the Slytherins’ bigotry against muggleborns and half-bloods?”  Charles fired at them before running after his friend, walking up the field to the drawbridge, with the sun burning gloriously above them with only a few clouds doting the otherwise blue sky.

“Hey, Dreogan!  Wait up!”  He yelled, panting at the uphill effort.

“What are you doing here?  It’s oka…”  Dreogan tried to hide his sadness and bitterness.

“No, it’s not okay.  Fuck them, you are my best friend so if they want to hang out with me they have to get over themselves and see that you’re not your family’s deeds.  Now let’s go up the astronomy tower or something, better view anyways.”  Dreogan smiled, nodding.

And so, they did, through the drawbridge, Hogwarts’ twisting corridors and up the Grand staircase with its moving stairs to the Astronomy tower where they spent the rest of the day practicing spells, chatting and laughing.

August left them as did the glorious sunny days, September brought showers, rain and a cold wind from the North of the country.  Their classes, and time spent together seemed to create a sense of belonging and routine.  A feeling entirely new to Dreogan.

“I hate flying.”  Dreogan murmured under his breath one foggy November morning, in flying class.

“Why are people looking funny at you, now?”  Charles whispered to him, as Professor Willows was explaining rolls and sharp turns to them.

“You haven’t seen today’s Daily Prophet, have you?”  Dreogan replied, while trying to not show the exact distaste he felt for the broom between his legs, or the fact he was about to start flying in a few minutes.

“Nah, why?  What happened?”  Charles turned an eye at him, keeping the other one on the Professor.

“Some twenty muggles and ten wizard folk dead on attacks around the globe in the last day, in various attacks.”

“Your siblings are dead, and your father’s in Azkaban, no?”

Dreogan nodded.  “A symbol was…carved on the chests of each victim left intact.  Two wings with a Θ between them.  The wizard folk had gold coins in their eyes while the muggles had silver ones.”

“That’s horrible!”  Charles exasperated.  “But still, why are they looking funny at you?  You had nothing to do with it.”

“No one knows my siblings better than me, they fear and hate them, but I know them.  This always used to be my brother’s idea of good fun.  So, I dunno if he died last year and these are his followers stirring up trouble or…”  Dreogan kicked at the ground lifting off, Charles followed him.

“At least after a few minutes of flying the class ends.”  Dreogan thought to himself.

“Yeah, but still, why look weird at you?  Your brother is thought of as dead and your father’s in Azkaban.”

“The last time random, nameless attacks started happening, the wizarding world got caught up in two successive major wars, with loads of dead on both sides.  Everyone’s still afraid I’m going to help my father succeed in creating this Imperium Arcana of his and I’m a constant reminder of the past, be it my brother’s act or my ancestors’ deeds.”

“That’s stupid!”  Charles exclaimed, earning the Professor’s irritated eye.

“It is what it is.”  Dreogan followed the Professor’s instructions.

After a few loops, sharp turns and rolls they landed, Professor Willows telling them to place their brooms in the broom closet.

“You always drink from that wooden cup.”  Charles commented during lunch.

Dreogan looked at his cup, something he had had since fading memory.  “I like it, it’s simple, nothing too fancy and it’s made from this dark wood which is similar to my wand.”

Charles looked at it again.  “I could have sworn its colour was lighter a few moments ago.”  He commented scratching his hair for a moment, his amber eyes contrasting.

“I don’t think so, I’ve had it since…well since I was seven, if not before.  It’s always been like this.”

“Can I hold it?”  Charles asked, extending his hand.

Dreogan offered it to him.  Charles examined it for a moment before returning it to him.  “Feels like wood…”

Dreogan picked up the pitcher of orange juice, pouring some in the cup.

“It is made from wood, what should it feel like?”  Dreogan crooked an eyebrow before returning his attention to his lunch and juice.

Charles shrugged going back to devouring the shepherd’s pie in front of him.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“What are you doing?  You’ve never been angry at me so far?  What did I do?”  Dreogan’s voice breaking.

“Hm?  No, no.  I’m not angry, just…frustrated I guess.”

“Not easy being my friend, is it?”

“It’s not that, I like your…quirky personality, it’s just sometimes I feel like I have to drag every piece of information out of you and it can be…exhausting.  I don’t know what you’ve been through before coming here, and it must be pretty traumatic but…”

“I know.”  Dreogan sighed.  “No, it’s not easy and yes, it was…traumatic.  I will try more, I will try…”

Charles smiled.  “Yeah, so why do you only drink from this cup?  Can I try?”

Dreogan felt amazed at Charles’ apparent ability to switch from not happy to cheerful in a blink.

“Uhm…sure?  It’s just a wooden cup, I promise.”  He laughed giving the cup back to Charles who poured some water into it and drunk it like a man having walked the Sahara.

“Hey!  This tastes goooood!”  He said wiping his lips with the back of his other hand.

“Uh, it’s water!  How more tasteful can it be from my cup than any other glass or cup or goblet or mug?”  Dreogan laughed.

“And yet it is!  Here try some from your cup and some from mine.”  Dreogan pushed both cups towards Dreogan.

“Okay, if only to prove you wrong.”  Dreogan poured some water into his cup and drunk from it.  Set it down and repeated with Charles’ Hogwarts silver and transparent glass.

Dreogan’s face distorted in irritation.

“I’m right ain’t I?”  Dreogan tried to go back to eat his beef roast and chips.  “Admit it!  I am right.”  Charles beamed.

“Dammit, you are right, it’s probably enchanted to enhance liquid’s flavour, or something.”  Dreogan dismissed it taking a bite from his roast.

“You’re probably right.”  Charles shrugged it off, finishing his pie.  “But who knew water could taste so good!”

“Yeah, who knew.”  Dreogan agreed, looking at the simple, wooden cup in front of him, glistening wet.

“Where did you find it?”  Charles’ fired his next question, with a mouth-full of pie.

Dreogan suppressed a laugh.  “I dunno, I just remember one day waking up, and it being there, next to me.”

“Ah, weird.  I guess it could be a gift from your dad…?”

“Doubt it, my father is not the gifting, generous kind, and you know…mum was not there to make gifts, I have no idea -in fact- if she’s even alive anymore.”

“What’s the youngest memory you have?”  Charles continued.  “Mine’s mum waking me up with the smell of pancakes when I was six or something.”

“My brother, he is the furthest away thing I remember, testing one of his spells on me, and me resisting the need to cry.”

“How was it, living with _them_?”  Charles waited until Dreogan had eaten his fill, before asking what he felt had been left unasked earlier.

Dreogan didn’t reply immediately, seeing various curious looks from the kids sitting next and near them.  He stood up, picked up his simple, wooden cup and started walking.

Charles followed him to the drawbridge, overlooking the black lake on the one side and the forbidden forest stretching out to the horizon.

“House of pain of immemorial.”  Dreogan spoke after a moment of silence, looking out to nowhere.  “I can’t talk about it, not yet but I can tell you this.  It was hell on Earth, and a daily, never-ending torture, which made me feel I’d have been better off if they’d killed me instead, my siblings.”  Dreogan felt the air whoosh out of his lungs as Charles hugged him for an instant.

“No!  Why would you say something like that?  Then we wouldn’t be friends!”

“My brother thinks death is a means of punishment, and a way to inflict suffering on the survivors, it’s not.  If he was true to his name, death would be a means of salvation and release.”

“True to his name?”  Came Charles’ inevitable question.

“Azrail, Angel of Death.”  Dreogan whispered, as if afraid to mention the very name.


	3. Chapter 3: Legends

 

All that could be heard in the class of History of Magic, was Mr. Beans’ ghostly voice and the scribbling of quills on parchments as the students took notes.

“I sooo wish someone else would teach History of Magic…I am liable to join Mr. Beans if we have to suffer seven years of this.”  Mr. Beans’ voice continuous, even and never changing.

Dreogan, Charles and the others sitting near him hush-laughed.  “What do you expect?  Guy died and just resumed teaching the next day…as a ghost, his body left behind.”

“And one day, his body became history!”  Charles quipped, making people laugh under their breaths.

“Hopefully he won’t teach us _that_ chapter o of Wizarding History.”  Emerick continued the joke.

Dreogan felt saliva come out of his nose, trying to not laugh aloud and disturb Mr. Beans’ narration.

“…The Earrach na Síoraíocht was said to make one of life eternal.”  Beans is writing on the board, using magic and his voice still the same levelled, even unbreaking, emotionless boredom-inducing tone.  “According to legend, it was created by the entities known as “The Old Gods”.  Although nothing much more is known about them through History books, as “A History of Magic” is the only _History_ Book there’s any mention of them.  The only other item known attributed to have been created by these “Old Gods” is the “Armour of the Old Gods” which was said to make the wearer impervious to all physical and magical harm.”

Anneke seemed especially interested in this, as did a lot of other students who appeared to be waking up from their Beans-induced-drowse, now full of attention to what he was saying, which was not much.

“Professor…when you say all magical harm…even the killing curse?”  Anneke asked hesitantly.

“In theory, Mrs. Joymother.  Unfortunately to many an adventurer, scoundrel and Mr. Azrail Gaunt, none of this can be collaborated or proven by any historical fact or source.  Moving on to Historically-proven Pre-Celtic magical Britain…”  And the interest was lost again.

“What does my brother have to do with this?”  Dreogan asked, suddenly interested himself.

“Nothing much, he had shown interest in your age.”  Mr. Beans replied in his usual tone of voice, void of emotion or interest.

Dreogan went back to keeping notes, Mr. Beans’ voice getting lost in the narrative of the chapter he was trying to teach them.

“I wonder who these “Old Gods” were?”  Emerick queried after class’ end.

“My parents don’t believe in god or gods, they’re atheists.”  Charles noted.

“They’re what now?”  Dreogan furrowed his brows.

“Atheists, they reject the existence of a god or any kind of deities.”  Charles explained.

“You’re in a school learning magic spells, potions and curses, maybe there’s a few things as of yet unexplained.”  Dreogan shrugged.

“Maybe, but why’d you look weird?”

“I dunno, I think I’ve heard or read about these “Old Gods” Somewhere before…”

“How?  You heard Beans, there’s nothing else written in any other History book about them.”

“I dunno where, but I have…”

“What do we have next?”  Charles changed the subject.

“Potions, but…uhm…”  Emerick’s voice trailed, looking at Dreogan.

Dreogan let out a deep breath.  I forgot for a moment, I’ll leave.”  Dreogan lowered his shoulders, preparing to leave.

“No, what’s your problem, Emerick?  It can’t be what’s he done, because he hasn’t done anything!”  Charles interjected, throwing his arms in the air, angry.

“I…don’t have anything against him, he’s…you’re kinda cool, but…”

“But what?”  Charles exasperated.

“But they’re all afraid of my family, and what’d happen if they socialise with me, my siblings who they don’t believe are dead, will kill ‘em all.”  Dreogan answered.

“More or less…”  Emerick nodded.

“That’s stupid, I’m still around and kicking!”  Charles nearly screamed.

“You’re right, it’s stupid but ever since last year the attacks on muggles and wizard folk have started again, and it’s not been this bad since…well one hundred and twenty years ago, since Voldemort and Delphi’s reign of terror.  In truth it’s not us -the kids- who are the problem.  It’s the parents, our parents who keep mailing their kids warning them off the descendant of the evilest, darkest wizard in History.”  Emerick relented.

“What about you?  You seem awfully chatty with me.”  Dreogan inquired.

“Parents are lawyers, as muggle as they come.  They don’t know shit about all of this, and I don’t intend to inform them.  I only have one question for you.”  Emerick locked eyes with Dreogan.

“Shoot.”

“Why not hang around Nott and her gang?  They’d likely accept you with open arms.”

“Our families used to be in business together, I could but…I can’t stand her or the others she hangs out with.  I don’t want to befriend someone who judges people based on their financial status and what they can do for her.”

“You’re eleven.”  Charles interjected.

“I am, so are you.  Wanna know how I know this?”  Dreogan replied Charles’ unasked question, they were walking down to the dungeons from the first floor in the great staircase.

“Sure, I’ve told stuff about my family, but you have so far resisted telling me about your family.”  Charles said shrugging.

“With good reason.”

“Why do you look scared?”  Charles had seen much displayed in Dreogan’s face, but never before fear.

“Cillian, my father, used to have a business partner by the name of Dave, when I was seven or eight years old.  Together they made most of what makes up my family’s fortune.  One day they exited his study to one of the Manor’s living rooms, dad got his wand out as casually as you breathe, pointed it at Dave’s back and just killed Dave without a shred of emotion.”

Dreogan paused for a moment, his fists clenching, his breath coming out uneven.  “Son, Dave here had his use, through him I married into his cousin’s family. By marrying her, had your siblings and acquired their money then killed her so I could…have your mother when I found her.  Dave was kept alive to get me in business with the Notts who were not yet convinced of me even though I had married into their second cousin once removed.”  Charles interrupted him.

“You’re related to Harold and Ariana!?”  His eyes bulging out.

“Unfortunately, but then again all of the “pure-blood” families are, one way or another.  “Now, he’s no longer needed.  Let this be a lesson to you, of what will be required of you when you grow up.”  I know Ariana and her kind, and I will never be her or my father.  Ever!”  Dreogan finished recounting his childhood memory in a hushed whisper.

“That’s…”  Charles started saying but changed the subject in a blink.  “You’re Anneke, right?”

She nodded, trying to make conversation as they walked to the potions classroom, in the dungeons.

“Do you think the Armour of the Old Gods exists?”  She asked as they waited for the moving stairs in the Grand staircase to move their way.

“If it ever did, it’s probably long since destroyed, like the Armour of Achilles, the Green armour, or countless other enchanted or magical items across the ages.”  Emerick replied her.

“Still, we have to write an essay about it, and the Earrach na Síoraíocht for the History of Magic class.  Wanna study together?”  She asked, looking at Dreogan.

“Uh…sure?”  Emerick replied uncertain.

“I meant Dreogan, of course.”  She dismissed him with a wave of her hand.

“They are my friends, you want to study with me, you study with them.”  Dreogan’s reply in a firm but not rude tone.

“Okay.”  Her reply dry.

Dreogan smiled in return.

“Oh!  I know!  Let’s try and track ’em down!”  Charles pipped in, grinning wide.

“Track what down?”  Emerick raised an eyebrow on Charles’ remark.

“Starting from the Armour…everything!”

“Okay, perhaps we can go to the library after potions?”  His eyes looking between Anneke and Charles who through his hands on the air.  “Sure!”  Anneke just nodded.

Anneke and Charles walked on ahead.

“Why did you agree to Charles wanting to find what is most likely lost and destroyed for thousands of years?”  Emerick asked him.

“Everyone thinks pure-blood families stick together, and maybe they do, but Charles is my first ever friend.  So, if my best…and only friend wants us to spend some time in the library reading books, who am I to say no?”  Dreogan shrugged walking down to the basement.

“Class, you’re going to hate me today.”  Professor Turney announced them, while they were taking their seats.

“For today you young minds will learn everything there is to learn about asphodels, dittany and various other trees and shrubs which give us potions ingredients as well as my favourites, aconite, hellebore and hemlock.  So, get out your quills and parchment rolls and start a-writing.”  He grinned as most students groaned.

“Lovely, Professor Turney just gave us enough homework to last us four months.”  Anneke whined exiting the classroom, an hour later.

“Don’t forget the best part,” Emerick followed her out.  “He wants it all by next week!”

They headed to the library, taking a seat around one of the rectangular study tables at one of the far ends of the arch-vaulted room, far away from the scrutinizing eyes of the Librarian.

“So, which are the items of the Old Gods?  The Earrach na Síoraíocht, their Armour...?”

“Where on Earth have I heard of this before?”  Dreogan scratched his head for a moment, whispering so as to not be heard by the Librarian.

“What does it say in the History of Magic?”  Emerick asked.

“Not much… “Before recorded history, there were the Old Gods, who used magic to create items of immeasurable powers and diverse perspective.  Only two are known; the Earrach na Síoraíocht, which would grant the drinker eternal life and the Armour of the Old Gods which is believed to have had the power to make the wearer impervious to all physical and magical harm…”

“That’s it?  That is all there is to know about them?  How are we supposed to write an essay on something that we have only a paragraph of information on?”  Dreogan looked over to Anneke, holding the book.

“The library book seems to have part of the page missing, but I don’t there’s much else, no.”  She concluded.

“Someone tore the lower right corner of it clean off.”  Dreogan remarked, getting his copy of the book out of his bag.

“Weird, it’s just a clean white page there, may have been an accident.”  He whispered.

“Maybe we can find more information in a book about enchanted or magical items?”  Charles shrugged.

Emerick got his version out, turning to the end, in the appendixes.  “It only has one other book as a source, for the Old Gods.”  Emerick left returning five minutes later.  “Mr Thorson, the librarian says that book’s been lost for two years now.”

“Lost or stolen?”  Dreogan asked, Emerick shrugged, he knew what Dreogan thought, if the lost book had been stolen by his brother instead.  “I don’t know, and I don’t think Mr. Thorson is going to voluntarily give me any more answers regarding it.  He looked almost angry at me asking for the book.”

“Okay, Charles you search at the enchanted items books, An…”

“Sorry, I’ve no interest in the Old Gods, I’ll write my assignment in the dorm room.  See you later, Dreogan.”  She said, interjecting him and left.

“Emerick, try and find if there’s anything in…Celtic history?  There has got to be some more information on this, otherwise why would Professor Beans give us an assignment we can’t possibly complete?”

“I asked around,” Emerick whispered back.  “Apparently in all his years of teaching no one’s given more than one paragraph for this assignment, no one’s ever gotten a good mark for this one.”

Their search went on without success.

“Hey, Dreogan.”  Charles whispered to him, they had left the library, heading for the Great Hall for dinner.

“Your father…was Dave, why he was imprisoned?”

“No, they never found Dave’s body or had any proof of what had really happened, and unfortunately memories are not evidence one can bring in a court…even in our world.  He was imprisoned for crimes related to his effort to create the Imperium Arcana.”

“What is that…even kids from the Wizarding families don’t seem to know much about it.”  Charles asked.

“My father’s idea of a perfect world.  He wants to establish a Magical Empire over all of humanity.  To do that he had my brother and sister recruit other students in here, and cultivated contacts across schools in many different countries, recruiting students there as well.  Intimidation, bribery, extortion, blackmail, you name it he did it.  Murder as well.”  Dreogan answered, looking gloom.

“How did they catch him?”

“They didn’t…”

“But he’s in Azkaban?”  Charles looked perplexed.

“He’s there until the trial, so he doesn’t vanish.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?  Doesn’t it put a stop in his plans, at least for now?”

“Does it?  He is in prison, he has no contact with the outsider world, and yet the attacks continue unstopped and unhindered, the whispers of a group of people scaring, killing and blackmailing wizards are increasing and fear is spreading faster than a wildfire.  The very fact that all of this is happening with the main suspect behind bars and the other suspect presumed dead only aids the spread of terror.”

“Can’t all be bleak and dread, the authorities are bound to catch those responsible…sooner or later, and your father will get convicted, won’t he?”  There was a notable desire to hope, in Charles’ voice.

“We’ll see.”  Dreogan entered the Great Hall.

“Your father’s followers, why do they do his bidding?”

“Why do they always?  Greed, fear, ambition, apathy, promises made.”  Dreogan shrugged.

“Promises?”  Charles raised an eyebrow, understanding evading him.

“If the Imperium Arcana comes into being, my father will be Emperor, most likely.  And Emperors require a lot of servants, officers, army, and people to facilitate their desires.  My father has promised a lot of people a lot of wealth and ranks.  Look at what happened in some of the African countries last summer when my brother did what he did.  The rebellions against their magical governments there were horrific, and some succeeded, now chaos reigns.  In Brazil they have yet to break the stalemate in their school of magic, as it’s still under the control of the supporters of the Imperium Arcana.”  Dreogan started filling his plate with food.

“You still don’t know anything, do you?”  Harold’s voice came in from behind them.

“What do you want?  You know more than me, there happy now?”  Dreogan tried to make him go away.

“If you think your father wants the Imperial seat for himself you’re even more stupid than I thought.”  Harold sneered.

“Fine, then you tell me, if you’re so smart, who does he want it for?  My dead brother?”  Dreogan could feel anger rising within.

Ariana cackled.  “And ruin the surprise?  You’ll learn sooner or later.  Come brother, we shouldn’t lose time on this failure of a wizard.”  Harold nodded, following her to the Slytherin table.

“One of these days…”  Dreogan mumbled under his breath.

“Some of the parents of the kids in our House believe all of this is just the beginning, the gathering of the clouds before the storm.”  Emerick grabbed a chicken thigh from a platter in the center.  “I can’t say I blame them, the attacks are increasing in frequency and brutality, and so are the whispers of something…big being prepared behind closed doors and under the cover of shadows.”

“And the longer the Ministry doesn’t manage to apprehend or downright kill the ones behind it all the worst it becomes.  Fear and despair settle in and the Imperialists get bolder and more audacious.”  Dreogan continued Emerick’s conclusion.

 


	4. Chapter 4: Dueling

“I’m telling you, there’s a spell or something around this place, time just doesn’t pass as quickly!” Charles whined in his unique cheerful way.  
“What are you on about? We are two weeks before Christmas!” Dreogan fired back.  
“See! It could BE Christmas!” Emerick laughed. Dreogan rolled his eyes.  
“Can I skip transfiguration?” It was Dreogan’s time to moan hanging his head.  
“She doesn’t hate you…much.” Charles tried to refute Dreogan’s reason for not wanting to go to a class he otherwise excelled in.  
“Oh, sure she doesn’t, everyone gets two rolls of parchment on transfiguration alphabet, I get that plus four rolls on the formula and one on how to turn a pig into a desk. A desk!”  
“She doesn’t hate you, you know what she’s doing, right?” Emerick asked them.  
“Besides hating my guts, you mean?” Dreogan persisted.  
“She’s giving you loads of homework, only it’s not hatred, it’s a leash.”  
“Leash?” Charles asked.  
“Yeah, the more homework you have to do the less time you have to get in trouble.” Emerick elaborated.  
“Hey, it wasn’t my fault my wand backfired and cast incendio on Professor’s Rawthorn’s hair!” Dreogan laughed. “The thing’s got a mind of its own, I’m telling you!”  
“Yeah, or the time you mis-casted the severing spell on Anneke’s clothes. I’ve never seen a human being go so red, before. Good thing Professor was there, whatever it is he did that blinded all of us, and when we got our sight back from the bright light her clothes were ok again.” Charles pipped in holding back fits of laughter.  
“Dork! I can’t understand how to make this wand work properly. Sometimes it does what I tell it to and sometimes it makes me feel lucky it didn’t auto-cast fiendfyre on someone, or you know one of the unforgivable three… And I think she knows it.”  
“She knows it?”  
“Yeah, knows I can’t control the damn thing and she’s asking me to demonstrate the spells in class so I fail in front of everyone.”  
“You’re exaggerating.” Charles was quick to dismiss him.  
Twenty minutes later, in class Professor Horsewood looked at Dreogan in her usual stern look. “Mr. Gaunt, please demonstrate for us the use of the spell and turn that bunny into a glass.” She ordered him.  
Dreogan gave Charles a very “I told you so” look before standing up.  
“There is no way this ends well Professor, can’t someone else…?” She looked at the bunny without replying.  
“Egestmuto!” Dreogan said while moving his wand at the corresponding rune from the alphabet. Normally they should have been staring at a glass, instead the bunny exploded, sending bits and pieces everywhere.  
“I see you have the same proclivity for killing small animals as your brother, good to see you both have taken from the same genepool, Mr. Gaunt. Sit down, please.” She told him, dusting her clothes from the animal’s insides. Casting a spell, she made it all vanish.  
“Well, it’s Christmas soon, two weeks of no classes, no Nott siblings and lots of food.” Charles whispered to him and Emerick.  
Caladrius, Dreogan’s Augurey, found them in between classes, walking on one of the corridors.  
Dreogan stopped walking, extending his left arm for the bird to land on. “What is it Caladrius?” He scratched it under its yellow, black spotted beak.  
Caladrius showed him his right talon, with a newspaper tied to it.  
Dreogan unfolded the newspaper, taking it from Caladrius’ talon.  
“What is it?” Your face is now whiter than egg-white!” Charles tried to look at the front page of the newspaper. “It can’t be Professor Horsebollocks or what she said?”  
Dreogan was so preoccupied by the first page’s content he barely registered Charles’ question.  
He passed the newspaper to Emerick, standing on his left. “Well f…hell…” He muttered under his breath.  
“What? What is it!” Charles moved from the right to behind Emerick, as his friend started reading the front-page Article of the Daily Prophet.  
“Cillian Gaunt exonerated of all charges!” Charles’ heart sunk. “Well that’s not good.” He stated.  
“There goes my Christmas…” Dreogan rubbed the sides of his nose near his eyes.  
“Mr. Gaunt was released today, after all evidence against him was destroyed in a fire at the ministry’s warehouse and the only witness against him was killed in the recent attacks wave.  
“Of course, my siblings don’t do anything without a cause or reason. They used the attacks to pull this off.” Dreogan asserted.  
“Can’t be them, they are dead.”  
“And have you seen their bodies, Emerick?” Dreogan looked at him, trying to avoid looking at his father’s picture in the newspaper.  
“It was an explosion that leveled the restricted section and most of the library.” Emerick shrugged. “What bodies?”  
“What was your father’s…alleged crime?”  
“Nothing new, he killed, bribed, intimidated, blackmailed and recruited in an effort to create the Imperium Arcana, an Empire of magic, with no place for empathy, compassion…or muggles.”  
“What was his defense?” Emerick asked.  
““I know nothing, it is my eldest son’s doing, he was always hurting small animals, which parent would tell on their child?” That was his defense, and the fact that all the ministry had on him was some circumstantial evidence and one witness…out of his entire organization they only managed to find one person willing to turn on him.”  
“So, the Aurors came to Hogwarts to apprehend your brother and sister?” Emerick continued.  
“they did, but they were too late.”  
“Hey guys! We are going to learn dueling in Defense against the dark arts today! Isn’t it super cool?” Anneke’s voice came in from behind them.  
“Dueling? Cool!” Charles changed the subject as swiftly as he could, following Anneke’s lead.  
“Swell.” Came Dreogan’s dry reply.  
“Don’t you like the idea of us learning to duel and protect ourselves?” Anneke asked him, somewhat irritated.  
“Not my cup of tea.” Dreogan shrugged.  
“Afraid you’ll lose?” She taunted him, pressing her hands against her waist.  
“Too many painful memories, but I didn’t say you can’t like it or I don’t want to be your friend because you like it.” He started walking to the classroom.  
Anneke remained in silence until they arrived, Emerick and   
Entering the oval shaped chamber, they saw a large, rectangular stage where their seats used to be.  
“Sir?” A Hufflepuff girl with big blue eyes, dark sin and shy disposition asked the Professor who stood near the rectangular stage.  
“Good morning kids, today you’ll be learning the very basics of dueling, usually a second-year subject, but considering a dangerous criminal is now out loose the headmistress thought…oh how did she put it?...oh yes. “They have to learn and evolve through conflict.””  
“What is it? You almost got a whiplash, your head turning so fast.” Charles chuckled under his breath.  
“Nothing.” Dreogan whispered back.  
“The basics are these. Try to deflect spells, try to disarm your opponent, and run as fast as you can. I hope you all learned how to run fast before coming to Hogwarts – some students laughed- so I’m going to teach you how to disarm your opponent, repel them if necessary and block…some spells. Wands out, couple up on the stage and prepare to fall on your behinds a few times during this class.”  
“Sir, may I be excused?” Dreogan asked.  
“What’s the matter Gaunt-boy? Afraid?” Ariana Nott taunted him.  
“Not of you, you can’t do shit without your brother and his goons around.” He replied in almost-apathy.  
“Five points from Slytherin for swearing, Mr. Gaunt and no you two pair up.” They both groaned. “The spell you want to be learning is Expeliarmus, an advanced spell, for sure, but a necessary one.”  
They started practicing and wand-waving.  
An hour later two people and Charles were lying on the floor, Anneke triumphantly shaking her hands in the air, grinning.  
Ariana tried to disarm Dreogan who cast Lumos before her, aiming at her eyes.  
“Slugulus Eructo!” Dreogan yelled. A second later Ariana vomited a slug making the other students laugh.  
“Expeliarmus!” Dreogan shouted sending her flying back and out of the stage. “Happy now, Ariana?” Charles swallowed a laugh.  
The lesson continued for a few minutes more.  
“So, what say you all, we have ourselves a tournament for the remaining class?” Professor Cooper announced.  
“Mr. Gaunt with Mr. Stalwart. Mrs. Nott with Mr. Brifriar. Mrs. Joymother with Mr. Orslow.” The Professor broke them down to couples and stood to the middle of the rectangular stage.  
“Mr. Gaunt and Mr. Stalwart you’re up first. The winner plays against the winner of Mrs. Nott and Mr. Brifriar. Let us begin!” Professor Cooper shook his wand and the room got darker with light falling only on the rectangular stage.  
People cheered, Slytherins booed as Emerick and Dreogan took their places opposite each other. Emerick grinned, Dreogan hanged his shoulders.  
“Start!” The professor exclaimed.  
Dreogan pointed his wand at Emerick and said, “Stupefy!” Only his wand spat out a spell as different to what he cast as oranges are to trout, causing it to fly out of his hand. This allowed Emerick to first disarm Dreogan and then throw him back off the stage.  
Ariana laughed.  
She and Laurence took their places. “Afraid, little Hu…” She was unable to finish her sentence as Laurence gave his wand a wrist shake and she fell to the ground like a petrified log. “I have older brothers, full body-bind comes in useful, talking smack while someone has a wand to your face doesn’t.” He said making everyone present laugh before walking out of the stage.  
Charles managed to fire Expeliarmus first at Anneke, but she cast a protego spell faster bouncing his spell off to the ceiling, she then disarmed him.  
“Good one.” Charles congratulated her. “Whatever.” She replied dryly.  
After a few more couples that round ended. In the next round Emerick lost to Laurence and Anneke won in her round. In the end Anneke came out the close victor of their little class tournament.  
“Congrats, well played.” Dreogan congratulated her.  
Looking smug she looked away, heading to leave the classroom.  
“Sometimes I can’t understand if I am friends with her or not, if she likes me or not or if I’ve done something wrong.” Dreogan exasperated at her reaction.  
“My older brothers talk about girls, if half of what they’re saying is even remotely true…get used to it.” Emerick snickered.  
“Hey wanna go play Gobstones?” Charles asked him.  
Dreogan shook his head. “I have homework to do for Horsewood, I’ll see you later?”  
“I’ll walk with you, you’re going to the library right?”  
“I am.” Dreogan nodded. They waved at Anneke and Charles who left the other direction.  
“Could I borrow your notes on potions? I’m bored of them.” Emerick asked. “Charles said you keep good notes, the other day.”  
“Sure,” Dreogan shrugged. “But I’m not sure you’ll understand them; my notes can be…confusing if you’ve never seen them before.”  
“I’ll take my chances.” Emerick   
“I wanted to apologize.” Emerick said. They were heading to the Grand Staircase, walking down a dark corridor, the cloudy weather outside allowed little sunlight in through the stained-glass windows.  
“Whatever for?” Dreogan stood, surprised.  
“For the previous months, we behaved badly towards you, and not because of anything you did. We shouldn’t have shunned you the way we did.” Emerick replied, twirling his fingers together, feeling awkward.  
Dreogan smiled. “It’s okay, thanks.” He looked around the dark corridor.  
“What is it?” Emerick tried following Dreogan’s gaze, trying to understand what was, suddenly, wrong.  
“It’s very…quiet.” Dreogan stated uncertain, his hand fumbling his wand.  
“I guess everyone’s…eating or studying? Or in class?” Emerick tried to explain it.  
“And who put out the torches and the lights? I don’t like this, let’s leave and get your wa...”   
“STUPEFY!” Someone yelled behind them, a girlish voice. Dreogan dropped to his knees, getting his wand out.  
“Stupefy! Expeliarmus!” He started throwing spells out in all directions until voices came down the corridor.  
“Emerick? Emerick!” Dreogan kneeled by his unconscious friend.  
“What is the meaning of this?” Professor Horsewood’s voice came from his right. Dreogan looked up to see a congregation of teachers and students gathering around him and Emerick. “Explain yourself Mr. Gaunt!” The look on Professor Horsewood’s eyes left no room for who she thought was at fault for the insentient student lying on the cold, tiled floor.  
“Eh? Me and Emerick were heading to the library when we were attacked from behind.”  
“Mr. Stalwart is lying on the floor, behind you, stupefied, as Mrs. Nott warned us. So, please tell me why you two were dueling in school grounds. Against school regulations?”  
“I…what? No, we weren’t! He and Charles are my only friends, why would I ever attack either of them?” Dreogan tried to rebuke the Professor’s remarks, his eyes catching Ariana behind the Professor to the right, smiling nonchalantly, and yet her lips curved with more intensity than she was portraying.  
“Follow me, Mr. Gaunt. Professor Cooper, please take Mr. Stalwart to the Hospital Wing.” Horsewood told the Professor of the Defense against the dark arts. With a wave of Professor Cooper’s wand, Emerick was levitated off the floor.  
“Hospital Wing? For being stupefied? He should be up already.” Dreogan wondered aloud, looking worried.  
“Enough talking, follow me. Now.”


	5. Chapter 5: Detention in the Library

All that could be heard was their footsteps on the cold, tiled marble floor and the wind against the windows. Dreogan could also listen his heartbeat against his eardrums, nervous and angry as he was.  
“Evanesco lumens.” Professor Horsewood said to the golden gargoyle, unlocking the stairs leading to the Headmistress’ office.  
Dreogan stood in the middle of the large, spherical room, the portraits of the previous Headmasters and Headmistresses behind him, the small steps leading to the Headmistress’ desk and the large telescope in front of him.  
A very large, white-furred cat sat at the front of the desk, cleaning her bushy, silk-looking grey tail. Her long whispers tangling and untangling on the strands of fur while her deep cyan eyes ignored Dreogan.  
The Headmistress finished signing some papers before turning her attention to him and Professor Horsewood.  
“I hear you were in an unsanctioned duel, Dreog…Mr. Gaunt.” She said, lying back on the black-leather chair.  
“We were attacked, ma’am. I did not attack Emerick.” Dreogan replied, calmly yet angrily.  
She stood up, coming around to them. “Give me your wand, Mr. Gaunt.” She demanded, stretching out her hand.  
Dreogan noticed a silver necklace around her neck with a blue-white gem in the middle and adorned with green sapphires around it, before his eyes travelled down, to her hand. He gave her his wand, noticing her robes being wet just above her ankles.  
“Interesting wand, two woods spiraling on each other, with two cores. And what is this hole on the back?” She asked him, scrutinizing his wand.  
“I don’t know, ma’am. That’s how it was when I got it.”  
“Prior Incantato” Headmistress Adams voiced, holding Dreogan’s wand. It fired a jet of golden light, before emitting echoed apparitions of the spells he had cast, in reverse order.  
“I see you’ve cast stupefy a few times.” Her eyes locked with his, stern and unyielding.  
“It was dark, I couldn’t see who fired at us or from where, and before that I cast it at Defense against the dark arts, where we learned the basics of Dueling, ma’am.”  
“Professor Horsewood, please fetch me Professor Cooper. We’ll wait.”  
Professor Horsewood left with a nod.  
“How have you settled in your House, Dreogan?” The Headmistress asked, Dreogan did not trust the sincerity behind her question.  
“They are a bunch of arrogant, self-observed j…individuals. I have nothing in common with them.” Dreogan replied, fierceness in his sparkling grey, with silver hues, eyes.  
“The sorting hat does not misplace students. You were sorted where you belong, like your siblings, father and ancestors before you, in Hogwarts’ House of glory.  
Her irritation did not pass by unnoticed to Dreogan who nonetheless ignored it, feeling contentious. “My father and my half-siblings are murdering psychopaths. I have absolutely nothing in common with them.” He fired, staring back at her stubbornly.  
“Perhaps they are misunderstood, as most great men are in their own lifetimes.” She crossed her hands in front of her lap, her wand in hand.  
“I can accept their greatness if they would do me the favour of dying.”  
Just then Professor Horsewood entered the office with Professor Couper.  
The Headmistress turned her head to them. “Professor Cooper, dd you cover stupefy today in class?”  
“As per your earlier instructions, Headmistress.” Professor Cooper looked startled.  
“Ah…yes, correct. My mind isn’t what it used to be…”  
“Like you instructed me ma’am, I covered the very basics of dueling, seeing as a notorious criminal was released from Azkaban, and the attacks are only intensifying in nature. I think some students knew the spell, though.” Dreogan hid a smile.  
“Only one thing left to do then, Mr. Dreogan Riddle Gaunt. Use the Pensieve, if you did attack Mr. Stalwart, you will be expelled from School.”  
Charles walked fast, leaving his dorm room. His feet walking fast enough he felt like he was going to trip because his feet were trying to run while his brain was trying not to run but go as fast as he could. He had just woken up to the news of Emerick having been attacked last night, Dreogan being blamed for it and no one knowing if he was still a student of Hogwarts. He headed to the Hospital Wing.  
At the door to the Infirmary there stood a man and a woman dressed in trench coats and formal suits under gazed him. The man looked at the woman who nodded. He opened the door, closing it behind Charles. Not that he noticed as he walked furiously through the aisle with opposing beds and night stands to where Emerick lay.  
“Why isn’t he awake? Stupefy should have long since worn off, no?” His agony only intensified by her look of absent-knowledge. His stare returned to his friend lying unconscious, hands to his sides, toes sticking up from underneath the white linen sheets. His breathing steady and slow, too slow.  
“I do not know Mr. Blake, it does not often happen I do not know how to treat or heal a student, but this is one of those times.” She told him, pressing a hand up against Emerick’s forehead, a reflex action, considering Emerick had no fever.  
“Professors Cooper and Turney are helping me, so I think it’s a matter of time until your friend is up and running, again.” She forced a smile.  
“What will they try, ma’am?” Charles looked up to her.  
“Professor Turney seems to think this has something to do with the drought of living death. I think Professor Cooper was considering giving him a slap to wake him up, but I’m sure he was joking, or he’d be getting some serious injuries from me in turn.” Charles had to laugh.  
“Do you not have classes to go to, Mr. Blake?” She asked nodding for the door.  
“Yeah, I just wanted to see if Emerick was okay.”  
“He’s not. He’s not sleeping, he’s in a state of comma I’ve not seen before, nor do I know how to treat. Now, please leave.” She turned and left.  
“Oh, hello!” He greeted Dreogan. “I thought I’d see you in there?” He motioned to the Hospital Wing’s door with his head. “Aren’t you going in?” He looked surprised.  
“Do you see the man and woman standing on either side of the entrance?” Dreogan replied, his turn to nod at the trench-coated adults, looking suspiciously at everyone coming near them, their pupils following them until they would distance themselves again down the corridor.  
“Yeah? What of them?” Charles shrugged.  
“Aurors from the Ministry. I’m not allowed in there as long as Emerick’s in there.”  
“What happens if you need to be in there?” Charles asked, genuinely.  
“I don’t know, I guess they stand on top of me until I leave.”  
“How did it go with the Headmistress?” Inquisitiveness replaced by fear.  
“Well, I’m not expelled, I got detention, but we got a far more serious problem.” Dreogan made for the Great Hall, breakfast pancakes in his mind.  
“Yeah, there’s no way Emerick’s got hit by stupefy. And it sounds like the Professors and Nurse have no idea what’s wrong with him.”  
“I meant my father or siblings somehow impersonating or controlling the Headmistress, but okay we have two big problems.” Dreogan spoke in a hushed voice and hunched back, trying his best to minimize the possibility of anyone overhearing them.  
His hand jerked violently from the wrist. He was dragged to a nearby, empty, classroom.  
“Say what now?” Charles asked him.  
“I swear your eyes are almost out of your skull, can you still see with them bulging out like that?” Dreogan laughed. “Can I ask you something first?” He asked losing the cheery face.  
“Yes?”  
“You don’t believe I attacked Emerick…do you?” Dreogan was more afraid of the reply, than the question, would he end up losing two friends in twenty-four hours?  
“What? Of course not. That’s total rubbish, that is.” Charles replied, Stated matter-of-factly.  
Dreogan hugged impulsively. “Yeah, so I think the Headmistress is a dupe or something.” He said as if he had stated the weather was nice.  
“On what proof do you base that on?” Charles responded incredulously.  
“Remember that tiredness is a sign of a dull mind from a few months back? And bit about us learning from adversity? That’s my father’s way of thinking, he likes someone growing from conflict. And! And!” Dreogan recounted the dialogue he had with Professor Adams while they waited for Professor Horsewood to fetch Professor Cooper.  
“She thought that? That’s weird but come on, it’s the Headmistress, she’s not a student, she’s one of the most powerful witches in Britain.” Charles exclaimed. “She’s Mary Adams, she’s a member of the Wizengamot, she’s got the ear of the Minster, she helped decode early pre-Celtic language which aided in understanding ancient Briton spells and potions. And that’s only one of her achievements, want me to read them all to you? I’m sure we can find a copy of the “Famous modern witches and Wizards of the 21st Century, Vol. II” somewhere in the library. I mean she’s been a Professor at Hogwarts for forty years and the Headmistress for half that time. She knows the go…”  
Dreogan interrupted him, looking gloom. “Maybe I’m underestimating her, but you are vastly underestimating my father’s stubbornness, my brother’s ingenuity and my sister’s ruthlessness and resourcefulness.”  
“I don’t know them, your family. You’re right, I don’t know them, but they are dead, they have to be after that explosion in the restricted section of the library last year everyone’s talking about. You know, I’ve told you how my father’s a lawyer?” Charles asked, Dreogan nodded.  
“Well, they have a terminology for this kind of thing. “Circumstantial evidence” my dad would call it. She said this and that and what are you going to do about it? Go to the deputy Headmistress and tell her this? She’ll laugh. Besides, how? Assuming you’re right and your siblings aren’t dead, how would they do it? Your father was in Azkaban for months.” Charles asserted, raising his hands in front of his face, palms and fingers open and stretched.  
“I…don’t know. I don’t know how but I have this feeling screaming in my gut and mind that something’s wrong here!” Dreogan replied, frustrated.  
“What ways are there to impersonate or control someone?”  
“I thought you didn’t believe me?” Dreogan raised an eyebrow.  
“I never said that. Just saying, we need more evidence than just some stuff she said, especially stuff only you heard her say, because it’ll be your word against hers and…”  
“…and I’m the son and sibling to psychopath criminal fascists and she’s Mary Adams, member of Wizengamot, Headmistress of Hogwarts and a witch who has fought against practitioners of the Dark Arts. I’m doomed.” Dreogan completed Charles’ reasoning, feeling resigned some.  
“She is all that and more, from what I’ve been reading, and therefore she’s the perfect candidate for this, isn’t she?” Dreogan felt his spirits rise, his friend believed him.  
“Shit, we’ll be late for class.” Dreogan shot up making for the classroom door.  
They made for the dungeons and potions classroom.  
“There’s no way Emerick got hit by stupefy, he’d be up and running ten minutes later.” Dreogan commented, worried.  
“Nurse has no idea what’s going on. And it didn’t sound like anyone else knew either.”  
“He is unconscious?”  
“As if he was dead. Nurse mentioned Professor Turney thinks it’s got something to do with the drought of the living death?” Charles replied.  
If Dreogan had stepped on a rake he’d have stopped less abruptly and instantly than he did now, his face loosing colour.  
“What’s up? What did I say? You look like you just saw a ghost…which around here isn’t a weird thing!” Charles laughed.  
“Did you…did you see his hands? Were they ash-coloured?” Dreogan gulped.  
Charles furrowed his eye brows in thought for a moment. “Now that you mention it…yeah.”  
“And his breath? His breath smelled okay?” Dreogan’s voice broke.  
“No, it was putrid, like…”  
“…someone died ten days ago…” Dreogan completed it.  
Charles nodded.  
“Please, please, please! Tell me they’re not even considering giving him the wideye potion?” Dreogan pleaded.  
“No idea, why?” Charles answered, shrugging in ignorance.  
They entered the classroom, they were late.  
“Sit, sit down everyone.” The Potions Master told them, moving his right hand indicating they should take their seats around him, in their desks.  
After the sounds of students sitting, cauldrons being readied, scrolls of parchments opening on the wooden desks, ink wells being unscrewed open and hushed whispers died down Professor Turney opened a large, black leather-bound book.  
“Settle down, settle down. Today you’ll be learning the Wideye potion. Who can tell me what it’s good for?” Professor Turney asked, looking around. “Anyone?”  
Several boys and girls raised their hands, some enthusiastically, some reluctantly.  
Turney waved his aged, wrinkled hand towards a black-haired in ponytail, girl from Gryffindor with freckles, blue eyes, a Mediterranean complexion and a slender figure.  
“It’s used as an antidote to the draught of living death, it is also called the awakening potion and it can be given to someone who has ben hit by the Confundus charm.” She said in one long breath and a high-pitched voice.  
“Very well, ten points for Gryffindor.” The Professor told her. She grinned.  
“Sir how is Emerick?” A Ravenclaw boy asked the Potions Master.  
“We are trying many, many different things and later today I’ll administer Mr. Stalwart wideye potion myself. It sho…” The Professor didn’t get to complete his sentence.  
“Give him that potion and you will have just as good killed him.” Dreogan jumped up before Charles could restraint him.  
“Sit down, Mr. Gaunt. I know what I’m doing.” Turney dismissed him without even looking at him.  
“With all due respect, sir. No, you don’t.” Charles closed his eyes, rubbing the ridges of his nose. “I know this spell, it’s one of my brother’s inventions and he’s a sadistic psychopath. He makes his spells to look like one thing while underneath it’s another. You know what he used to call this one? Family disaster. He made this one to be used on kids, so when their parents would try to heal them they end up killing their own kids.” Gasps followed his explanation.  
“How do you know this? I doubt your brother would tell you this. Did you cast this on Mr. Stalwart?” Turney resisted.  
“How do I know? Who do you think my dear old brother used to test his inventions? I mean at some point the area was out of small animals he could torture, who do you think he used as a Guinea pig then?” More gasps followed Charles’ head snapping to his friend.  
“You have quite the imagination Mr. Gaunt, your brother was my student, and while his marks were good he was not that clever, in potions.”  
“If you can achieve your goal and not run more than two kilometers an hour, why run twenty? His words to my father admonishing him for not excelling on every subject, instead of focusing on charms and Defense against the Dark arts.”  
“Sit down, unless you want me to add a month or three to your detention.” Turney ordered him, looking menacing.  
Dreogan was ready to continue when the Gryffindor girl from earlier pulled him down by the back of his robes.  
Dreogan turned his head to speak, when he saw her shaking her head in a stern yet pleading fashion, her eyes trying to indicate him everyone’s eyes on him.  
With a deep sigh he turned to his parchment rolls and his quill.  
“Shall we return to the lesson, then?” It wasn’t a question. “To brew a Wideye potion one needs, what? Who knows?”  
And the class resumed without any further excitement to its end fifty minutes later.  
“I’m going to help you.” A girly voice came in from behind him.  
Dreogan and Charles’ heads turned to the voice’s origin. The Gryffindor girl.  
“Why? Who are you?” Dreogan asked, his brows furrowing. Charles was looking at her as well, even if somewhat less incredulously.  
“Oh, my name’s Claudia Russo, mum’s Italian, and I don’t believe you are the one who did this to Emerick.” She stated simply and with conviction.  
“Uh…okay, thanks I guess. Help us how?” Dreogan crossed his hands in front of his chest.  
“I am the best in potions in our year and the Professor likes me.” She said in response, before motioning to them to stay there, with her hands.  
“Professor, sir.” She blinked her eyes rapidly while making her voice even more girlish, if possible. “I was wondering, if I could help you in administering Emerick the Wideye potion? I believe it will help me learn of its effects better if I can see it at work. Please, sir?” She held the potions textbook in her hands in front of her lap.  
Turney gazed her, his pupils talking before his voice did.  
“Your thirst for knowledge is admirable, Mrs. Russo, I applaud your attitude. Yes, you can come with me to the Hospital Wing. I’ll expect to see you in there, after the end of classes today, Mrs. Russo.”  
Claudia walked back to them, grinning wide.  
“Works. Every. Single. Time!” She emphasized every word, clearly satisfied with her performance.  
“What did we gain now?” Charles inquired.  
“How would I sabotage the potion if I wasn’t there?” She replied with a quick shrug of her shoulders, as if telling them they were eleven-year-old.  
She had to laugh and roll her eyes at the look on their faces, and their jaws slacking.  
“Y-you know how to?” Charles blurted out, astonished.  
“Well yes, of course. It’s a simple transfiguration spell to change it from Wideye to wine, water or whatever else. Water won’t kill Emerick, will it?” She replied, looking at Dreogan.  
“I won’t.” He confirmed, nodding.  
“That’s good, we’ve got to go Astronomy class.” Claudia said in reply, stuffing her hands in her robe pockets, books under her left armpit, backpack in her left shoulder.  
“What’s the counter-curse?” Claudia asked Dreogan, a corridor down. “Do you know?”  
Dreogan sighed. “I know it, but I have no idea whatsoever how we’ll pull it off.”  
“Why not?” Charles and Claudia asked simultaneously.  
They laughed. “We need the fumes of a book of curses burning by a magical fire, we need Emerick inhaling the smoke and we need us not to, since they can be lethal and finally…we need someone to curse Emerick as he’s inhaling…” Dreogan told them in a low voice.  
“Lovely.” Claudia commented. “Well, one thing at the time, first I need to sabotage a teacher’s effort to unknowingly kill Emerick, so here’s me hoping I don’t get ca…” Dreogan cut her off.  
“There is one thing.” He took a breath. “Emerick has six months to live. After he will be transformed to an Inferius.”  
“What’s that?” Charles asked. The blank look on their faces told him they didn’t know what this was.  
“Inferius or Inferi is basically a dead person, reanimated to a dark wizard’s wish and spell to serve him. Killing them is unimaginably tough and they know no need for rest, food or anything else other than serve.”  
“Sorry I asked...” Charles lowered his head. “How…how do you know? I don’t think many in our year know this kind of stuff…”  
“No, they don’t. I hope. I don’t think you understand how bad my family is and how hard I’ve tried not to be.” Dreogan turned his head to Claudia.  
“Why are you helping me…us?”  
“If you had attacked Emerick, you’d not be risking further detention trying to help him. Professor Turney’s not listing to you because of his ego, and I hate self-important, ego-driven males.” She grinned.  
“Uhh…okay.” Charles raised an eyebrow.  
“Dad’s a wizard, mum’s a women’s rights activist. I hear a lot of things like this at home.  
“She’s a-what-now?” Charles had to chuckle at his best friend’s lack of knowledge on the muggle world.  
“I’ll explain later.” Dreogan nodded smiling.  
“So, it’s settled then.” Claudia entered the Astronomy classroom.  
“We’re in trouble, she’s got…energy!” Charles said in his usual cheery demeanor.  
“And then some, I like her.” Dreogan said in reply.  
A few hours later Dreogan was eating dinner in the Slytherin table in the Great Hal, when the doors cracked open and Claudia walked in, a faint smirk on her lower lip.  
Dreogan made eye contact. She nodded, sitting opposite to him and Charles. A few people from the Gryffindor table raised their heads at one of their own sitting with a Slytherin, there were whispers but no one said anything aloud.  
A week later they were in King’s Cross, the Hogwarts express having just stopped at the platform nine and three quarters with students disembarking all excited for the Christmas vacations.  
“I wish I could have stayed in Hogwarts.” Dreogan muttered under his breath.  
“What is it?” Charles asked him. His parents with his younger brothers, Claudia with her parents and Anneke with her mother stood near chatting.  
“I’m sorry for what you’re all about to experience. I wish I could have stayed in Hogwarts.” He said and walked towards A tall man with short brunet hair and dark, shady amber eyes, a trench coat, fedora hat and curved nose.  
“Father.” Dreogan addressed the man with a cold, hostile voice. “And I see you brought Averill with you.”  
“Dreogan.” His father acknowledged him with a nod of his head.  
“Nice to meet you, sir.” Charles extended his hand.  
Cillian’s hands remained in his pockets. “You must be Charles, Dreogan has told me much about…” Dreogan interrupted him.  
“We have not had any communication since you were, rightfully, sent to Azkaban.”  
“Hello, I am Helen, and my husband Peter.” They tried extending their hands, but Cillian wouldn’t move a muscle. “We are Charles’ parents, and these two are…”  
“Fascinating.” Cillian’s voice dripped with apathy and malice.  
Dreogan wanted to find a rock to hide under, Charles knew his father wanted to erupt and his mother wanted to let him. “Charles keeps writing about Dreogan, even if half of what he tells us is true, you have done well there.”  
“If I had he’d not be making friends with mudbloods and muggleborns from other houses, but rather from proper kids from Slytherin, greatest of all Hogwarts’ houses.” Cillian replied in the same low tone.  
“What do you do for a living?” He asked them, clearly uninterested.  
“I am a lawyer and Helen’s a child therapist.” Peter said, his voice restrained, his hands flexing by his sides.  
“Ah. I trade in magical artefacts, rare ingredients and soon I’ll be elevating in the ministry as well, now that they dropped those ridiculous charges against me.”  
“Could you be any more of a snob you mot…” Charles was guessing his parents’ thoughts with relevant ease.  
“At what? Executions have ceased since the nineteenth century.” Dreogan quipped.  
Charles coughed in his effort not to laugh, while Claudia turned an eye to her mother who was hiding a smile, rubbing her nose like something had caught on it. And Anneke with her mother looked dreadful.  
“Mrs. Joymother, how nice to see you.” Cillian ignored Dreogan, directing his attention to Anneke’s mother.  
“Selwyn, I retracted to my madden surname after the divorce, it is nice to see you as well Mr. Gaunt, and I wanted to extend our gratitude for getting us in business with the Notts. I had a small gift transferred to your Gringotts account.”  
“Good, good. Any news from your man in Greece?”  
“I should have news soon, sir.” Anneke’s mother responded looking left and right.  
“I didn’t know you had interest in Greece?” Dreogan inquired, surprised.  
“I don’t.”  
“Let’s go, son. And starting from next semester I don’t want you hang…”  
“Hell no. MY friends, my rules. I don’t care for your bigoted, fascist crap.” Claudia almost choked on her own saliva.  
“You are embarrassing yourself and more importantly, me. Let’s go.” Cillian’s cool dispassion changed in a blink.  
“You need no help from me, just start speaking about your idea of the Imperium Arcana.” Dreogan’s breathing getting shallower.  
Cillian fisted his nape, dragging him away. “I’m sorry.” Dreogan mouthed to Charles, turning his head as best he could. Charles tried to smile reassuringly.  
“You were not lying in your letters, son.” Peter told Charles. Placing a hand around his shoulders. “Dreogan does sound like a tormented soul.”  
“And loyal. How does a kid like this come from someone like his father?” Helen wondered, caressing her son’s hair.  
They were walking to their cars, with Claudia and her parents.  
“What a horrible, little man.” Claudia’s mother stated. “You and Dreogan are not in the same house, are you?”  
“No, but I’ve decided to be his friend.” Claudia said in response.  
“You sure that’s a wise choice?” Her mother asked, her tone neutral.  
“Yes, mum. He’s nothing like his father and I like him.” Claudia replied resolute.  
“Okay, your choice yours the consequences.”  
“Good, or bad. I know.” Claudia completed her mother’s sentence.  
“I’ll see you in two weeks.” Claudia gave Charles a quick hug.  
“For sure! I hope Dreogan can mail…”  
“It’s only two weeks, love. And maybe Dreogan will manage to mail you.” Helen said, sensing her son’s stress.

~

Two weeks later they were back in the Hogwarts express.  
“Hey! Here’s your gift!” Charles tried to give Dreogan a parcel. Dreogan silent his eyes gazing outside, withdrawn.  
“Hey, thanks.” He looked tired.  
“What happened?” Charles sat opposite him.  
“Nothing, I just missed you, Emerick and Claudia. And Hogwarts more so.” Dreogan forced a smile.  
“Open it, silly.” Charles pointed at the gift-wrapped box.  
Dreogan pried at the wrappings, revealing the contents of the rectangular box. A smartphone.  
“Uh…what is it?” Dreogan looked at Charles, dumfounded.  
“You know how the Wizarding world has animals like owls doing the sending emails, communication part?” Dreogan nodded. “Well Muggle world has these, they are called mobile phones or smartphones. I don’t know how well it’ll work in Hogwarts with all the magical energy about, but it will give you more means with which we can communicate during vacations.  
“How does it work?” Dreogan flipped the thin, transparent machine in his palm trying to see how to even turn it on.  
“Here, let me show you.” Charles went on explaining things. By the time they arrived back in Hogwarts Dreogan was able to send and receive messages, as well as call and receive calls. Every UI animation, holographic motion graphic elicited squeaks and gasps of surprise and joy.  
“Everyone with me, follow me to the carriages.” Gameskeeper and Professor Ives Jordan called out to them.  
“Sir is it true you have been named this generation’s best duelist?” Dreogan asked him, waiting for other students to embark on the Thestral-pulled carriage.  
“I have been called many things.”  
“Is it true, dueling’s about strategy?”  
“Intensely so.”  
“How can I make someone reveal something to me, they don’t want to?”  
Professor Jordan scrutinized him for a while before answering.  
“Are they arrogant?”  
“Immensely.”  
“Insecure?”  
“Yes.”  
“Brilliant?”  
“Ingenious.”  
“Then they are prideful. Prideful people are easy to taunt and manipulate.”  
“How?”  
“That person, what is their greatest desire? Their deepest, darkest fear? What is it they are brilliant at? Combine those and you know enough about your opponent to taunt and manipulate them into revealing what you want.” Ives replied and entered the carriage.


	6. Chapter 6: Why?

Mr. Gaunt,

Your detention will start today, after classes in the library, and will go on twice a week for three months

Dept. Headmistress Diana Horsewood

Dreogan read and reread the letter delivered to him by owl.

“Perfect, you can find us a book of curses to burn.” Claudia whispered. They were between classes, sitting under the fountain in the clocktower courtyard.  
“Not that simple, we still need to find a safe way to make it happen.” Charles told her.  
“Your detention will go on twice a week for three months. Lovely.” Dreogan crumpled the piece of paper in his hand before setting it on fire and levitating it above the fountain.  
“Oh, now it works as I want it!” Dreogan whined about his wand.  
“I wonder why the library of all places.” Claudia inquired no one.  
“You don’t think she’s giving you an opportunity to exonerate yourself by finding what you need to heal Emerick, do you?” Charles asked.  
“If she knows what’s required to heal Emerick, why not do it herself? She’s the headmistress, not like a teacher’s gonna stop her from saving a student.” Dreogan replied. “No, this makes me believe in my theory even more.”  
“Your theory?” Claudia tilted her head to the right, raising an eyebrow.  
“Dreogan thinks his father is somehow impersonating or controlling the Headmistress.” Charles filled her in.  
“Wasn’t he in Azkaban until like a month ago?” Dreogan nodded. “Then how? Have you noticed anything suspicious behaviour? I love mysteries!” She exclaimed.  
“And people think I behave weird?” Dreogan chuckled making eye contact with Charles who laughed back.  
“What?”  
“Oh nothing…”  
“Well, I’ll see you guys later, I have to go meet some girlfriends from my House.” Claudia bumped knuckles with them before leaving.  
“I want to wipe that smile off her face.”  
“Hm? Claudia?” Dreogan asked confounded.  
“What? No, she’s great. I mean Ariana. Ever since you were accused of attacking Emerick she’s had this triumphant look on her face when she sees you.” Charles indicated pointing at Ariana with his head. “I just want to rub her face in the mud or something.”  
“We have bigger issues to worry about, like who cast the spell that hit Emerick.” Dreogan replied without turning to look Ariana.  
“Ariana’s brother? He’s what a fourth year?”  
“Can he cast fiendfyre? This spell is equally difficult if not more complicated. I don’t know if he could cast it successfully.” Dreogan asserted.  
“If he was taught by someone who knows it?”  
“Even then it’d be difficult at best.”  
“Then who? I don’t think your brother would have liked sharing his creations?”  
“Like it? He’d be pissed if it was done without his permission and if he didn’t have a reason to have it cast.”  
“She’s coming over.” Charles groaned. “Why won’t she just go away?”  
“Because she knows you mind what she’s doing.” Dreogan shrugged. “Ignore her and she’ll get bored.”  
“She’s not making you angry?”  
“Oh, I never said that. She and her brother make me want to learn the killing curse…but you know, I try to ignore them, compared to my family they are nothing but a nuisance.”  
“Hello, Dreogan. You must be glad your father was released from prison.” Harold stated.  
“You just can’t imagine how much.” Dreogan replied.  
“He is a visionary, why do you dislike him so much?” Harold asked sincerely, ignoring Dreogan’s venomous sarcasm.  
“Visionary? He has killed, blackmailed, bribed, intimidated and threatened people and for what? To create some magical fantasy Empire? We don’t live in the Dark ages! What does it matter if you are a muggle-born or not?” Dreogan said in response, increasingly vexed.  
“You don’t know nothing, it is funny I know more about you, your father and his motives than you do.” Harold bragged, smirking.  
“Sure, you do, and I know where the Armour of the Old Gods is.” Dreogan responded sarcastically.  
“I’m surprised you only got detention, I’d have expected you’d have been expelled for attacking that filthy muggle-born.”  
Charles made to stand up, Dreogan placed a hand on his shoulder preventing him.  
“She’s not worth it. Emerick’s worth more than she ever will.” He said calmly before locking eyes with her. “Speaking of muggleborns…how’s your lovely mother these days? And her muggle parents? One has to wonder how she ever convinced Alfred Nott to marry her when she herself is not pure-blood.”  
“Ever wonder why your father did business with my father? Or why he stopped after you were born?” Harold fired back, holding back his murderous-looking sister. He turned round and walked away.  
“What business is your father in? I Thought he was trading stuff?”  
“That’s what I thought as well, plus he used to work in in the department of mysteries, in the ministry before they shipped him off to Azkaban.”  
“He could be bullshitting you.” Charles shrugged.  
“I don’t think so, but I don’t know what he’s on about.”  
“Why not ask your father?”  
Dreogan looked at him as if he had suggested he should walk to the moon and back.  
“Nevermind, let’s go we’ll be late for astronomy class.” Charles stood up.  
“Right…more constellations to learn, more stars in the night sky and I bet you anything. Anything! More cryptic proclamations by the Professor about stuff we won’t even begin to understand.” Charles laughed.  
“Yeah I’m not losing that bet. So, you’re coming or what?”  
Professor Ixion rested her hands behind her back, her left hind leg bent up near the thigh. Long dark blue hair fell on top of her unclothed breasts.  
Her jade eyes scanned the faces of the students, always searching for meanings only she understood.  
“I am pleased, strange considering you’re all…human children.” She spoke in a calm voice that kept you on your toes. “You revised well on your knowledge so far, most astounding, indeed. Now we progress further to the constellations of the four Houses of this school.” She walked to the center of the room and with a whisper the room’s candles were put out, the ceiling illuminated only by the constellations of the night sky.  
“Mr. Blake.” She told him without removing her eyes from the illuminated ceiling. “Please illuminate for us the winter Sky’s stars and the constellations of the four Houses of Hogwarts, please.” Dreogan’s eyes were focused on the ceiling as well.  
“This is not like the Great Hall’s enchantment.” He thought to himself. “This looks different, the stars are moving, even If slowly.”  
Charles waved his wand, illuminating various stars and constellations, painting the room blue from the iridescent light.  
“I know these!” Dreogan announced louder than he had intended, his eyes fixed on the illuminated constellations in the ceiling.  
“I would hope so, Mr. Gaunt.” Professor Ixion told him in her steady, calm voice. Some students laughed.  
“No, yes…I mean, why would my father have these on his desk…and why do I…nevermind, sorry for the interruption, ma’am.”  
“Your mind wonders, but are you the wonderer?” She made eye contact with Dreogan.  
“The seven stars of a centaur’s favourite constellation. Turn your attention to the ceiling.” She told the class waving her right hand above her head. Seven constellations flashed bright while the other ones vanished.  
“Mr. Fillard.” A Slytherin boy seemed to wake up from a trance at hearing his name. “That I have four legs and no clothes on, does not mean you don’t get to respect my privacy. Look otherwhere or you’ll find my hind legs embedded in your oral cavities.” Everyone laughed. The Slytherin boy turned his -now- very crimson face away, pretending to read the textbook in deep concentration.  
“Bartholomeus, Sinistra, Orion, Perseus, Canis Major and Eridanus. Seven is key, three and three and in the end, one is the wonderer across the eons, who does what he must and not what desire commands, loss is the worst advisor.”  
She averted her eyes from Dreogan’s and proceeded to teaching them the winter constellations.  
“Mars and Jupiter, always close in spirit, don’t want them aligning. Ambition, warmongering and leadership, who has it? Who is leader and who follower?” Her eyes scanning the students, again.  
“Spill it, you were distracted throughout the class.”  
“I dunno, I have a bad feeling about this.” Dreogan packed his books and writing tools.  
“It’s not weird for a wizard to be researching constellations, is it?” Charles placed his backpack on his shoulder.  
“Wizard, no. My father, yes.” Dreogan followed him out of the classroom. “Besides it’s not any four constellations, it’s the four houses of Hogwarts, the four Founders of Hogwarts and the four oldest known Wizarding families in Britain.”  
“Haven’t the “Pure-blood” families always…mated with each other? Ya told me so."  
“Problem is Gryffindor’s line has stopped, as far as anyone knows back in the eleventh century and so has Rowena Ravenclaw’s.”  
“So, anything else you can remember? Of your father’s research?”  
“No…I haven’t told you much of me, have I?” Dreogan stopped walking for a moment.  
“Not much?” Charles snorted. “Try little next to nothing!” Charles said in response in his usual tone.  
“I -he took a deep breath, letting it out- I will tell you more but I’m…afraid.” Another deep breath. “You need to understand I’ve not had a healthy childhood before coming to Hogwarts…and I’m afraid.” Dreogan hang his head.  
“You? Afraid?” Charles’ face betrayed his dumbfoundedness.  
“You.” Dreogan said in reply, with wet eyes. “losing you as a friend, my best friend, my first friend. Outsiders are divided when thinking about my family. They either idolize them like Harold and his family or they hate us like…well, most of everyone else. If they only knew the shit my father and siblings have done to me and others…” Dreogan’s voice trailed off, while Charles remained silent for a moment. He remembered a letter he had sent to his mother before Christmas, and her reply to it. She had guessed much of what Dreogan was now telling him.  
“That’s never going to happen. Ever. You are my best friend, and I don’t care what your psycho family has done, or what you tell me. We are friends for life. End of story.” Charles’ voice held a peculiar solemnity about it that was unlike him, yet it made Dreogan smile warmly, a hand wiping off his eyes.  
“Okay.” Dreogan nodded. “So, I don’t remember anything before I was seven.”  
“Nothing?”  
“Nothing whatsoever. I remember waking up…” He cut off his sentence seeing Anneke approaching.  
“Hey guys, not really in a mood to chat but I thought I’d say hi.”  
“Oh, hello. How’s it going?” Dreogan greeted her.  
“Oh yeah, I’m sure Professor Turney hates me.” She replied.  
“He’s too old to even have feelings.” Charles tried to jest.  
“Whatever, he hates me otherwise he’d give me good marks.”  
“We could study together, if you want.” Dreogan told her, after the initial surprise of the reason of her grievance against the Potions Master.  
“Thanks, no.” She said with a stare before leaving.  
“I wonder why she thinks Professor hates her? I mean he hates anyone that’s you, after you had that little convo with him about Emerick and Wideye potion.”  
“Hey!”  
“Just messing with you is all. You were saying?”  
“Later, I promise. I gotta go eat and then detention starts…joy.” Dreogan whined, with a surrendered voice.  
“Just think you’ll be helping Emerick.” Charles tried consoling his friend.  
They bumped fists, something Charles had taught Dreogan. Dreogan headed to the Library.  
“You must be Azrail’s younger brother.” The Librarian, Mr. Nerus Thorson declared.  
“Through no desire of mine.” Dreogan said in a dry reply.  
Thorson did not seem to be amused. “We have work to do, pick up those books your peers left all over the place and start putting them back on their shelves without the use of magic.” The man said, his glasses moving over his long-hooked noise and deep penetrating crimson eyes. White hair falling long over his shoulders.  
Dreogan picked up a batch of books. Looking to the book tittles he walked over to the nearest bookshelf.  
“Textbook of curses and counter-curse for first-years, doesn’t begin to be dark enough…” Dreogan thought, placing the book on the shelf.  
“Ancient Greek enchanted and magical items: Codex A by Valerian Aldridge.” Dreogan opened the book. “This could be fun…Enchanting items is not new in the wizarding world. Our earliest evidence comes from 6th Century BC and the Ancient Greek civilization in similarly ancient roots.” Dreogan’s eyes scanned the book’s pages, amazed at all the various items the ancients had enchanted or created. “…If one is willing to entertain myths and legends…” he flipped the page. “The first item created with magic, according to archaeological evidence is the Was scepter, which was used to command the will of the Pharaoh’s slaves, subjects and soldiers…” He flipped another page. “…the Armour of Achilles. Mythology has it created by Hephaestus, but it is believed Antikeros of Paros is the wizard who forged it. The armour is believed to have the ability to render the wearer invulnerable to harm and capable of drinking Acheron river’s water without dying, although there is little to no evidence of this…”  
Skimming through the rest of the book, with a short stop in Hera’s necklace, he placed the book in its shelf.  
“Genealogical charter of Britain’s Wizard families, going back to the Eleventh century.” Dreogan let down the other books in the pile, opening the moldy, green-leathered book cover.  
“Gaunt family, Lestrange, Potters…everyone’s here.” He traced his right index finger down the table contents, searching for family names. “Gryffindor, page one thousand three hundred and four.” He whispered flipping the pages in batches.  
“Gryffindor is one of Britain’s oldest known families, going back to pre-Roman era Wales. The only known member of the family is Godric Gryffindor, one of four founders of Hogwarts and found of the same-named House. Godric Gryffindor is one of two founders whose line ended sometime in the eleventh century, according to known records.” Dreogan’s eyes had frozen on that paragraph, his head hunched over the book, his jaw slacking. The reason for this were two, hand-written, words above “whose line ended”. “Not true!”.  
“That’s my father’s handwriting, but it looks different somehow. When did he write this? When he was a student?” Two paragraphs later the book’s knowledge on the Family of Gryffindor ended.  
“Three paragraphs, that’s all that’s known about them…” Dreogan thought to himself. “I know I have Slytherin’s lineage in the Gaunt family name but…” Ravenclaw family also ended in the eleventh century, according to the book. He then went on to Hufflepuff family’s entry. “Three pages, that’s something more than Gryffindor’s…” Two and a half pages later his eyes froze for a second time that evening.  
“The last male descendant married into the Smith family, who fifty years later, on the female line, married into the Smith family. The last male descendant of the Smith family, son of Zacharias smith, married Kathrine Gaunt Lestrange. For more details read page two hundred and five.” Dreogan swallowed. “That’s my great grandmother!! Daughter of Delphini!” Closing the book, he placed it on its shelf.  
“Like father like son. He too was interested in that book, young Gaunt.” The Librarian’s voice came in, hushed, behind him startling him and causing him to drop the other books on the floor.  
“Why was he interested in this book?” Dreogan asked him, catching his breath.  
“Your guess is as good as mine, he did not inform me of his intentions or reasons. Nor did I desire to ask him of them.” Thorson’s red-hued eyes were fixed on him, making his skin crawl. “His defiling of the book, on the Gryffindor family page was more than enough reasons for me not to like him, even if most of his peers revered his abilities on curses and Astronomy.” Nerus turned and left for his desk.  
Two hours later he entered the Slytherin common room, clad in green light and drapes embroidered with snakes.  
Anneke waited there for him, a plate of dinner in her hand.  
“Oh hey, thanks but I ate dinner before detention. That kidney and steak pie is amazing!” He told her seeing a piece of pie in the plate.  
“Oh, yeah no, I mean it’s not for you. I…I brought it here to eat it, didn’t want the Great Hall’s noise and all...” She replied quickly.  
“Oh, okay. Well thanks anyways, I’m going to sleep, man I’m beat.” He waved goodnight to her, heading for the boys’ dorms.


	7. Chapter 7: The Child That Was Never Meant to Be.

“Oh, why is everyone whispering when they see me, now?” Dreogan queried annoyed. “One month without whispering and gasping when I walk in a room since the start of the school year, that’s all I got…so, why now again?” Spring was nearly upon them, with nature slowly awakening from its slumber and the last vestiges of snow and frost melting away.  
“So, I’m guessing you haven’t read today’s issue of the Daily Prophet, have you?” Claudia gave him a folded copy of the newspaper.  
“N…no…” Dreogan unfolded it, turning it around, searching for the First page cover story.

 

DREOGAN GAUNT  
The Child that was never meant to be

By Alexander Prince,  
Read how Cillian Gaunt (Lestrange really) broke about a dozen laws of the Ministry of Magic to create a child that was never, otherwise, meant to exist.  
Next week’s issue reveals all! Read all about it!

 

“Well…fuck me…”  
“Dreogan!” Claudia whined on his use of language.  
“Oh, puff it. You should listen to my brother and father talking to each other.” Dreogan dismissed her.  
“Do you think this was your dad’s doing?” Charles asked, shaken and unsure of what to say.  
“Whatever my father did to…have me…no. he did not do this, but you can be sure as hell this Alexander Prince reporter guy has just made himself into one stupidly colossal target.”  
“You didn’t send him the information, seeing as you have no idea what he’s about to reveal, and Nott has hinted at knowing more than you do about your father’s motives. So, who sent it, and why?”  
They sat in the Great Hall, in the Hufflepuff table.  
“Uh, what are you doing?” Charles saw Dreogan retrieve his quill, parchment and ink from his backpack.  
“Gonna write and warn him about who he’s messing with. He doesn’t know my father dearest the way I do.” Claudia and Charles’ eyes almost popped out of their sockets.  
“That’s a horrible idea! Commendable but incredibly horrible.” Claudia told him, in an as low a voice as she could manage.  
“Why? I am not going to threaten him. I’m trying to help him more or less save his life.”  
“That’s not how it is going to be perceived. Look, ask a Professor about it, they say okay, we won’t try to stop you.” Claudia offered.  
“Okay, I’ll ask Professor Cooper tomorrow, he seems to be one of the few who doesn’t hate or fear me.” Dreogan conceded.  
“I expected more stubbornness from you, I am surprised!” Charles laughed.  
“I am not stubborn.”  
“True, you are more stubborn than a mule.” Charles grinned, avoiding a shove.  
“Am not!”  
“Are too!”  
“Not!”  
“Boys…” Claudia grinned. “We must be the only multi-house gang around…it’s kinda cool but I gotta run now, when are you going to the library again?”  
“I think this week it’s Tuesday and Thursday, so today. Professor Horsewood did this so I miss the Quidditch game between Slytherin and Hufflepuff, I’m sure of it. I hope you guys win.”  
Charles snorted. “We will lose. Badly.”  
“Tell your Captain to block Avery’s left flank, he’s a lefty and can’t use his right hand to handle the Quaffle and Nott is really bad at avoiding bludgers so pummel him with them and he won’t be catching any golden snitch anytime soon.”  
“Uhm…wow cool! I’ll tell Bradley Forester.” Charles nodded furiously, smiling conspiratorially.  
“We also need to find out how to get the book out of the library and burn it without getting caught.” Claudia wondered, waving them quick goodbye.  
“I don’t think we can do that. I have an idea, for later.” Dreogan waved back.  
Charles and Claudia headed for the Quidditch pitch while Dreogan headed for the library.  
“Sometimes he doesn’t behave like he should.” Claudia muttered.  
“Like he should?”  
“Yeah, like a kid our age.”  
“Must be that cup of his.”  
“You mean the wooden one? The one he always drinks from? Why? It’s just a wooden cup.”  
Charles shrugged making Claudia roll her eyes.  
Dreogan found them heading down the Grand Staircase to the Great Hall. “Hello! How did it go, yesterday?” He asked Charles.  
“Oh, you know, Slytherins devastated us so bad it didn’t even matter we caught the snitch, we still lost by a mile and a half.” Dreogan looked down, sad.  
“I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”  
“What are you apologizing for? It wasn’t your advice that wasn’t good, it was the twat of a captain we have who flat out ignored the lot of it because it came from a Slytherin and because I was stupid enough to tell him it came from one.”  
Whatever Dreogan was preparing to reply, he never managed to. A third-year Gryffindor boy walked near them, throwing a newspaper in his face. “Will your fucking family ever stop killing innocent people?” Before any of them could reply anything, the Gryffindor boy left.  
“What was that all about?” Charles tried to go after the departing teen with Claudia restraining him, as Dreogan kneeled down picking up the newspaper.  
“This is not good.” Claudia stated.  
“Oh god…” Dreogan whispered, barely audibly.  
“What?!” Charles and Anneke, having just caught up with them, asked trying to grab hold of the newspaper from him.

 

DAILY PROPHET ATTACKED!

Our Offices were attacked late last night by men wearing hoods with the symbol of the I.A. Two of our reporters were injured, one dead and Alexander Prince is presumed dead in the fire that followed. All his research in the articles he was working on, was consumed by the flames.  
The Head of the Magical Law Enforcement Agency and the Minister of Magic had to say on the incident. “The culprits will be found and punished with the full measure of the law. The investigation is ongoing, and all possible leads will be followed thoroughly.”  
When asked about Cillian Gaunt, the Head of MLEA and the Minister of Magic refused to make any comments.

 

The article went on for another three paragraphs.  
“I didn’t want this.” Everyone’s eyes on him.  
“Why not? Now you’re not in trouble.” Anneke indicated.  
“I wasn’t in trouble before and I definitely didn’t want this!” Rebutted her. “I wanted to know what he had, what his article was about. He, and the Notts and my father’s allies know more about my family than I do. I hated how he was going to profit from it, but I still wanted to know…and I didn’t want them dead.”  
“This reminds me of a time my parents were fighting.” Anneke started, not even acknowledging his reply. “They were fighting about dad wanting to purchase the Bwana tree farm. Mum didn’t want him to and then there was something about “unethical treatment of House Elves” by him. It was a really bad fight.”  
“Sorry to hear that. I hope they’re getting better now, your parents.” Claudia told her.  
“They’re not. They were really bad during Christmas. I think dad’s cool, but mum doesn’t seem to think so.”  
“I hope things work out.” Dreogan tried to pat her shoulders affectionately, but she avoided his hand.  
“Oh god…what now?” Dreogan said, having seen the Deputy Headmistress approach them from the Great Hall’s entrance.  
“Maybe she’s not looking for you.” Charles tried to appease his friend.  
“Right…”  
“Mr. Gaunt, please follow me.”  
“Just him.” Professor Horsewood told Claudia and Charles who made to stand up.  
“I’ll tell them everything after anyway, might as well let them come.” Dreogan said, standing up, a hand around his backpack.  
“Then you’ll tell them after. Follow me.”  
He followed her to her office in complete silence, even other students cluttering the corridors seemed to stop talking when they saw them pass by.  
“Professor Horsewood, I haven’t done something wrong, have I?” He asked. She opened the door to her office, revealing two individuals inside. Two men in their forties. One with a bald head and one with long blond hair.  
She closed the door behind him.  
“Please, take a sit.” The blond-haired man told him.  
“I’ll stand, thank you.” Dreogan placed his hands in his pockets, looking at the two men.  
“Very well then, what do you know about the article Mr. Prince was going to release, the one about you?” The bald man asked, he seemed irritated. He pressed his spectacles higher up his nose, a motion he repeated often.  
“Nothing more than what was in yesterday’s paper, and…” Dreogan paused.  
“Yes?”  
“Harold Nott keeps taunting me about how he knows more about my family and my father’s motives than I do, but he could be bluffing, sir.”  
The two men looked at each other for a moment, the blond-haired one writing stuff down in a notepad.  
“Where’s your father?” The bald men asked him, in a pressing, forceful tone.  
“If he’s not in the manor, I have no idea.”  
“Where was he last night?” The bald man asked, clearly not convinced of Dreogan’s ignorance in the matter.  
“How should I know? I was in my dorm sleeping.” Dreogan was becoming angrier with each question. “I haven’t talked to my father since Christmas, and then it wasn’t because I wanted to.”  
“What do you know of the book of…” The blond-haired man started asking when the fireplace in the other corner of the room came alive. A woman walked out of it.  
“Floo network works here as well, I guess.” Dreogan thought.  
“It was a ruse! The attack on the Daily prophet was bait to draw us away from the Ministry!” The man said in a hurried voice, blood dripping from his left shoulder. “The Ministry has been burglarized, the department of mysteries!” He fell to his knees, clutching his injured shoulder.  
The blond-haired man rushed to him, retrieving his wand and pressing it on the wound. “What did they steal?”  
“The replica of the book of leaves. Now, they’ll soon know…” The injured Auror fell silent, as Diana Horsewood rose to her feet, wand in hand.  
“Not now! Mr. Gaunt, you are dismissed!” She said with the door to her office opening on seemingly on its own.  
Dreogan did not need to be told twice as he bolted for the door.  
He run to the Defense against the Dark Arts class, causing a Professor to yell for him not to be running in the corridors, something which barely registered.  
With a brisk knock on the door he entered the oval-shaped room.  
“Welcome, Mr. Dreogan. The Deputy Headmistress informed me you might run late because of earlier events outside of Hogwarts, so I won’t be deducting points from Slytherin, please take your seat.” The Professor told him, indicating the empty seat next to Charles with his wand.  
“As I told your classmates, today you’ll be learning your first steps into anti-jinxes.”  
Professor Cooper went on with the lesson, while Dreogan found himself unable to concentrate in anything other than the events in Professor Horsewood’s office.  
Shifting and feeling too hyperactive to pay attention to the anti-jinxes to various different jinxes, or anything else coming out of the Professor’s mouth, he picked up a piece of parchment, grabbed his quill and dipped it in the ink well. Some hastily written words letter he passed the note to Charles.  
Having read it, Charles’ eyes bulged out, his jaw dropping open and spoke aloud which made Dreogan facepalm himself. “The Ministry was robbed, while the offices of the Daily Prophet were attacked?!”  
Professor Cooper covered the distance to their desk in two large strides, grabbed the note and gave it a quick read before setting it aflame with a flick of his wand.  
“Mr. Blake! I think you have earned yourself some additional homework, me thinks. Five rolls on anti-jinxes, and five on anti-hexes!” He said trying to raise his voice above the cacophony of gasps, and whispers that followed Charles’ reading of the note.  
Charles’ head snapped to him in a fashion which caused Claudia to wonder if it’d roll off his shoulders. “But, but, but!! We haven’t covered anti-hexes yet, professor!” He whined.  
“Oh, the humanity! You have that plus your normal homework for next week, like the other students which keep their mouths shut in my class unless asked a question.” Mr. Cooper replied in a tone which did not allow for further discussion of the matter.  
The moment the bell for the end of the lesson sounded Dreogan felt Charles and Claudia drag him out of the classroom, each one, somehow, using both his hands to do so.  
“Okay, spill!” Claudia demanded.  
Dreogan recounted everything that had happened in the Deputy Headmistress’ office.  
“Blimey! What does your father want with this book?” Charles asked.  
“What even is this book? I’ve not heard of it before.” Claudia went on.  
“Me neither…now we have two reasons to want access to the restricted section of the library.” Dreogan said.  
“What two reasons?” Claudia frowned. “They are not letting anyone in there, it’s supposed to be in repairs after last year’s...fray with your brother.”  
“Well, I’ve not found anything of help anywhere else in the library, so far and Emerick’s time is running up. That’s one and second reason is I think my brother’s alive and I think he is the one who sent the information to that reporter, knowing….” Charles cut him off.  
“If he’s alive…why would he do that?”  
“Because, he would know father dearest would never allow it to get published, the article I mean, and in the confusion and with the Ministry sending most of everyone to deal with the attack it would…” Claudia interrupted him this time.  
“It would allow him to break in the most heavily secured floor inside the most heavily fortified building in the UK, other than Hogwarts, and no one would be there to stop him. Ingenius plan if it’s true, evil but ingenius…”  
“Yeah and with the attack in the Daily Prophet, at the heart of Diagon alley, so near Grincots it’d have every Auror in two hundred kilometers in every direction there and not in the Ministry, also like this he’s not blamed for everything. The Aurors who interrogated me earlier were asking about my father, not him.”  
“What is this book your brother wants so badly that he risks breaking in the Ministry of Magic and the department of Mysteries to boot!” Charles wondered aloud.  
“You think that book is what he was searching for in the restricted section last year?” Claudia asked. “Does Hogwarts Library even have books so dangerous?”  
“How do you know it’s dangerous? We know nothing about it.” Dreogan shrugged.  
“Your brother wants it, it is not going to be about the flora of Scotland.” She jested.  
“Assumptions are a deadly ally.” One of my father’s sayings. Don’t make them, it’s dangerous.”  
“I guess you’re right.” She relented. “Well nothing to it, we must get you in the restricted section, pronto!”  
“And manage to get you inside the Hospital Wing and burn the book, all without getting caught...what could possibly go wrong!” Charles laughed.  
“No, we will get caught, or I will. As to getting in…I have an idea and you won’t like it.  
“You? Grinning? I don’t like this!” Dreogan laughed at Charles’ comment.  
“Oh god…”  
“What?”  
“Herbology next…” Claudia had to roll her eyes at Dreogan’s dislike of Professor Horsewood’s Classes.  
“Usually this is part of second year’s curriculum, this year is an exception. Mandrake or Mandragora roots, take your quills out and take notes.” Diana Horsewood told them, her demeanor was even more stern than usual.  
She first told them of its characteristics, traits and description leading to its uses for healing and the Dark Arts.  
“Ma’am, what would happen if we heard the cry of a root which hasn’t reached maturity yet?” Dreogan asked, with as much an innocent voice as he could muster.  
She eyed him cautiously before replying. “You’d be knocked out unconscious for well over an hour.”  
“And if an adult human di so?”  
“Same thing for less time.”  
“Thank you, professor.” He said with a grin.  
“No!” Charles said out of the blue, they had just exited the classroom.  
“What?” Dreogan asked-replied with an impish smile, he knew Charles knew why he had asked about the Mandrake’s cry.  
“You want to use the Mandrakes while they’re still immature to knock out the Aurors guarding the Hospital Wing’s entrance!”  
“My first thought, before class, was for you and Claudia to levitate me and the equipment needed, onto the Hospital Wing’s window, next to Emerick, so I could enter from there.”  
“You win!” Charles declared trying not to laugh. “How will we steal the Mandrake?”  
“Borrow for a short while and we’ll have to spread the work around because it has to be tomorrow.” Dreogan said.  
“What? Why?” Charles corked an eyebrow.  
“Last day of detention…”  
“Quidditch!” Charles announced suddenly, nearly jumping up.  
“You love it, so?” Claudia asked, pressing a tuft of her black hair behind her ears.  
“That too, but it’s also Gryffindor versus Slytherin tomorrow, Good time as any to act, seeing as everyone will be in the Quidditch pitch.”  
“Claudia, you borrow the Mandrake, I’ll get in the restricted section and I’ll find the damned book we need…somehow, and Charles…where are you with finding a way to light it up without the fumes killing us?” Dreogan laid out.  
“Oh, yeah I forgot to tell you! I have something arriving from home tomorrow.” Charles grinned impishly. “Muggle tech. at the rescue!”  
“Cool, we can discuss the rest of the plan later, we have flying lesson for no…” Claudia cut her sentence short, her eyes locked at the other end of the corridor.  
“Dreogan Gaunt.” Harold Nott’s voice came in from behind him, where Claudia was staring at. “I guess you must be ever so sad the Daily Prophet was attacked.” He said in a tone full of malice and sarcasm that made Dreogan want to become physically violent. “Now you will never learn why your father…selected your mother to breed, even if she was a muggle.”  
“Sure, whatever.” Dreogan tried to walk away fast, feeling anger rise to dangerous levels. He hated when people like Harold Nott even talked about his mother.  
“You must be soooo happy you were this lucky.” The older boy pressed on, there was a peculiar glim in his eyes, his brunette spiky hair shaped like daggers.  
“Lucky?” Dreogan froze. If Charles or Claudia had been aware of just how angry he was and what secrets Harold Nott was about to unearth they’d have dragged him off forcefully if needed be.  
“Indeed, without your father’s motives and action you’d not have been born in such a prestigious and rich family.”  
“I’d have been lucky not to have been.” Dreogan’s reply was quick and short.  
“I guess money and wealth is how you justify why your father doing what he did, as ignorant as you are of his real motives? You know what I’m talking about, yes?” If smirks could kill, Harold’s would have devastated several small towns, so full of himself in the information he possessed and the knowledge of how much that information hurt Dreogan.  
All colour vanished from Dreogan’s face, now visibly shaking from the building, seething rage. Claudia realised his state of mind and made to grab his hand, try to get them to leave. He shook her hand away.  
“Watch it Nott, you don’t want me ruining your face, it’s not like you have anything else going for you.” Dreogan’s breaths came shallow and rugged, his hands clenched in fists.  
“Says the product of a rap…” Harold did not even get to finish that sentence before Dreogan jumped on him with a roar full of pain and despair, decking him square on his jaw.  
Several students who were near broke out in cheers urging them to fight on. Ariana seemed less than pleased of her brother’s behaviour, this time.  
Then as suddenly as it had begun the fight ended, Harold and Dreogan being pulled to opposite directions by seemingly invisible hands.  
“One hundred points from Slytherin!” Came Professor Cooper’s voice booming across the corridor, no doubt enhanced by a spell. “You may leave now, Mr. Gaunt. Mr. Nott, you have earned yourself detention and you are hereby banned from any and all Quidditch activity until the end of the year, in any capacity. Begone from my sight. Now!”  
Harold’s mouth opened and closed several times before storming off in the opposite direction of Dreogan, his eyes throwing daggers at the Professor.


	8. Chapter 8: Lies, Illusions and Deceit

Breathing heavily, walking fast Dreogan stormed out of the corridor and made a bee-line for his spot in the drawbridge. Or rather, under it. There he paced back and forth, fists by his sides, feeling dazed.  
“Dreogan, wait up!” Charles yelled, both he and Claudia running after him.  
“How dare he! How dare he out something like that!” He hissed.  
“I…it’s not true?” Claudia asked, hoping.  
“Oh…it’s true alright…but how dare he reveal it to the whole bloody school! It’s my burden, not his business!” Sitting on a chair he brought his hands to his face, shaking.  
“I’d have told you. You two and Emerick…eventually, but not the whole flipping school.” His voice broke.  
“I’m sorry.” Charles told him placing a hand on his shoulders, wanting to console his friend.  
Dreogan’s face came up from his hands, looking at him surprised. “Whatever for are you sorry? You didn’t rape my mum, nor did you just tell everyone!”

“I’m sorry you have to live with it, when it’s not your doing.” Charles explained.  
Dreogan hugged him, as Claudia hugged both of them for a moment.  
“Do you think he overheard us?” She asked, afraid.  
“I hope not, we don’t have time to alter the plan.”  
“We can be vigilant, though.” She nodded.  
Dreogan nodded back, then remained silent for a moment or two, looking out the vista before them, with the sun slowly descending behind the lake and the mountains beyond.  
“We need to go study some, in the library before the game.” Claudia told them, breaking the silence.  
Dusting their clothes, they made for the library.  
“Everyone’s so excited about this game, all of a sudden.” Claudia commented, seeing students out in the corridors, wearing their House’s scarfs, talking very animatedly about who they believed was going to win the game, who they wanted to win or lose, analyzing and strategizing the players’ strengths and weaknesses.  
“Well, yeah! It’s Slytherin versus Gryffindor for one thing so, always exciting! And with the one hundred points Dreogan and Harold lost Slytherin, Gryffindor have a chance to break Slytherin’s unchallenged ten-year streak of winning the House Cup. So, yeah everyone’s rooting for Gryffindor.” Charles explained.  
“I hope Gryffindor wins.” Dreogan said, looking at his list of homework. “Ugh, we have so much work for transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts and potions, and why is Mr. Beans so bleeding passionate about the Arthurian legend all of a sudden? Not much is known about the Holy Grail or his armour! Ten rolls on him and Merlin is just too much.” Dreogan moaned.  
“Mr. Beans and passionate in the same sentence…who knew.” Anneke said, coming from round the corner to the corridor leading to the Great Hall and the Library. “Hello guys!”  
“Hey.” They said.  
“How are you?” Dreogan asked.  
“Not so good, nightmares and people being rude and wanting to talk.” She replied, her voice sounding annoyed.  
“Sorry to hear that.” Charles said, wanting to say something but not knowing what to say.  
“Well, don’t have to talk in the library, we’re going to study if you want to join us.” Dreogan told her.  
“Nevermind, forget I said anything.” She dismissed him.  
“I only meant that the library, is a good place when you’re feeling like that.” Dreogan shrugged.  
“You are really cool, but sometimes you make me angry.” Anneke said, clearly upset.  
“Uh…what? Why? If I’ve done anything to upset you, please tell me.” Dreogan replied, not knowing what he had done to upset her, someone he considered his friend.  
Anneke placed her backpack on her shoulder and walked away fast.  
“Uhm…what did I say?” Dreogan asked Charles and Claudia, flabbergasted.  
They could do no more than shrug, equally surprised at Anneke’s strange behaviour.  
“Better get going then, we need to finish at least some of this before my detention and your going to the game.” Dreogan entered the library.  
Next time Dreogan lifted his eyes and attention from his homework two hours had passed. Time passes speedily when writing essays on the effects of wormwood in potions and the proper grammar and accenting of the transfiguration alphabet while whispering and chatting with one’s friends.  
“What are you searching for?” He asked Charles, stretching his legs. Charles seemed completely lost in reading tittles on the spines of books in the shelves, his green eyes scanning book after book, shelf after shelf.  
“Anything that may have information on the Book of Leaves. I’ve gone through all the history books and I found nada. So, now I’m branching out.” Charles replied in a whisper, his eyes never leaving the bookshelves.  
“I found something about the old gods in an early Gaelic culture and magic book, the other day.” Claudia told them.  
“Huh? What?” Dreogan and Charles turned their heads to see her, sitting in the desk behind them, rays of light casting on her through the stain glass windows.  
She flipped a few pages in her notebook, “The Old Gods were ancient even to the indigenous people of Pre-Gaelic Britain. They had vanished before the Celts arrived, leaving behind only stone monuments and powerful spells few understood, but everyone tried to use.”  
“What kind of spells?” Charles inquired.  
“I have no idea. The book was missing a page.” Claudia raised her shoulders. “Someone had torn it off, I’ll bet you anything Mr. Thorson considers it high crime to damage a fifteen-century book.”  
“Interesting. I wonder if any of their items, spells or monuments survive to this day.” Dreogan thought aloud.  
“Possible.” Claudia remarked, going back to writing her homework assignment. “I better get back to my potions assignment.”  
Dreogan went back to finishing his transfiguration assignment.  
“I still got the one pass, it’s valid for two more days. We will manage the Defense Against the Dark Arts essay.” Dreogan turned his head to see two sixth year boys chatting in whispers. A blond short-haired and crimson haired one.  
“We must finish this assignment for NEWTS.” The blond boy said, sounding more stressed than his friend.  
“Professor Jordan wouldn’t like it, but he’d give us another pass if we needed one.” His red-haired friend tried to reassure him.  
“The books are elsewhere now? With the Restricted section closed?”  
“Yes, you give the token to the Librarian and he gives you the book the next day. We must just find the book or books we need from the Library’s catalogue.”  
Dreogan’s eyes travelled from the back of their heads to the black token lying on the edge of the dark-brown textured wooden desk.  
“Distract them!” He urged Charles and Claudia, with wide eyes and hoarse voice. “The two boys behind us.”  
“What? Why?” Charles looked up surprised.  
“I’ll explain after, distract them!”  
“S-sorry, do you know where the Dragon section is?” Charles asked them hesitantly.  
“Accio token!” Dreogan whispered as low as he could, but his wand produced only silent sparks. He tried a second and third time with no success, becoming increasingly frustrated.  
Claudia stood up and pretending to look for a book on the boys’ table she bumped, forcefully, up against Charles, making stumble on the boys and the table, his hand throwing the token on the marble floor.  
Dreogan grabbed it and bolted for the Library entrance in one swift movement.  
“so? What now?” Charles asked him, catching up to him with Claudia three corridors down. “What was that about?”  
“Sorry, but we now have a token granting us…me access to the Restricted section.” Dreogan grinned showing them the black token.  
“Brilliant!” Charles exclaimed taking the round, large-coin-sized, metal item, flipping it back and forth, giving it a thorough examination.  
“Aren’t they spell-locked to the student given?” Claudia asked, cautiously.  
“Nope, I heard Mr. Thorson complain the other night to Mr. Jordan about how they are not and why has this not changed since the eleventh century.” Dreogan replied, his grin spreading wider.  
“Now the fun starts.” He stated in a self-assured voice brimming with mischievousness.  
It was an increasingly uneasy rest of the day, Charles seemed the most affected by the incoming time to put their plan to save Emerick in action.  
Nether of the two boys got much sleep that night. Charles was just too excited and Dreogan kept seeing dreams of him being blasted out of the Hospital Wing’s windows by the Aurors, their plan having gone awry, or Diana Horsewood getting him expelled.  
Next morning during breakfast in the Great Hall wasn’t any better, even cool-headed Claudia felt more energetic than usual.  
“If you two are not careful we’ll get caught before this even starts!” Claudia cautioned them, Dreogan and Charles both constantly shifting and toying with their forks and the food in their plates, unable to down any of it.  
“You two look guiltier than a Niffler in Gringotts!” She tried to lighten the mood.  
“Everything alright there, Mr. Blake?” All three of them jumped, startled, at Professor Willow’s voice behind them. “You seem edgy…more so than usual, if that’s even possible.”  
Charles turned round, his face shaped like a puppy’s begging for cuddles or food. “Oh, eh, uhm…hello sir, Professor, sir.” He swallowed hard. “Just, you know, the game is all!” He stuttered, feeling goosebumps on the back of his head.  
Professor Willows eyed him carefully, then Dreogan and Claudia who tried their very best to look as innocent as they humanly possible as they could.  
“I trust you three are not trying to get into any trouble?” He said in a slow voice, trying to not sound as amused as he was. His eyes fixed on Dreogan and Charles.  
“Oh, we don’t try to get into trouble, Professor. We’re trouble magnets, trouble finds us no problem! I assure you!” He managed to say with a straight face, blinking a few times. Charles choked on his milk while Claudia snorted, trying not to eject the food in her mouth.  
“Cute.” Professor Willows left, failing miserably at looking less amused than he was.  
“Oh, uh, sir professor sir.” Dreogan mimicked Charles’ voice.  
“Dork!” Charles laughed trying to punch his friend’s shoulder.  
“Boys…” Claudia sighed pretending indifference. She was smiling.  
“Shush, you like us.” Charles chuckled.  
“Maybe.” She snickered.  
Just then three owls entered the Great Hall holding a single, large cylindrical-shaped object wrapped in white leather.  
Some seconds later they laid it on the table between Charles and Dreogan.  
“What’s this? It’s heavy!” Dreogan cried.  
“Keep your voice down!” Charles urged him. “This is how we do what we must. Save Emerick and have you not die in the process.” He gave a crafty smile.  
“So, what is it?” Dreogan asked again.  
“Not here, I’m not sure the Professors would approve. Any of you know Reducio?”  
“That’s a year 2 spell!” Dreogan said, astonished.  
“Oh, get out of the way you two!” Claudia shoved Dreogan back against his chair with her wand hand before casting Reducio on the leather-wrapped item.  
“Great! Follow me.” Charles told them, stuffing the now miniature item in his pocket.  
They walked behind him to the caretaker’s office, where Charles unlocked the door with the unlocking spell. Alohomora.  
“Uh, we shouldn’t be in here.” Dreogan said worried, closing the door behind them.  
“They haven’t found a replacement yet, this office is empty for now.”  
“I know, my brother killed him. It still doesn’t feel right.”  
Charles removed the item from his pocket, placing it on the floor between them.  
“Care to enlarge it?” He asked Claudia who with a sigh cast the Engorgio spell on it.  
“This is an oxygen tank.” He begun explaining to Dreogan, after he unwrapped it. The cylindrical, metal object shinning in the dim light. “Muggles use it in hospitals and stuff.” He picked up the mask attached to it via a rubber tube. “Patient breathes in from this end.” He placed it on his mouth, with the cord behind his head for a moment. “I’ll empty it from the oxygen and modify it so you can place the book inside, close it and then place the mask on Emerick’s mouth and nose. You then open the valve like this – he demonstrated- and Emerick alone starts breathing the fumes. Easy peasy.” Charles finished, looking like a million dollars.  
“Nice! Reducio.” Dreogan minimized the object again.  
“Good thing we don’t have Herbology or Transfiguration next, you two look guiltier than…”  
“A Niffler in Gringotts, we know!” Dreogan interrupted her.  
“Was going to say, than a cat with a canary 8in her mouth, but that works too.”  
“Only a few hours remain, come on we have potions next.” Charles said, picking up the oxygen tank.  
They walked to the potion classroom, in the Dungeons.  
“Sit down, all of you and get your quills and parchments out. You are less than two months from end-of-year exams.” Professor Horsewood told them, the three of them rooted on the entrance.  
“Where’s Professor Turney, ma’am?” Dreogan asked, feeling stomach churning, all of a sudden.  
“He was feeling under the weather and requested I replace him for this class. Sit down, Mr. Gaunt.” She answered, opening the teacher’s book of potions for first-years.  
Charles looked at Claudia who was rubbing her temples.  
They sat down.  
It was a torture of a class for Dreogan, Charles and even Claudia, who tried her best to direct the Professor’s attention as far as she could from her friends who she did not trust to behave in any other manner than as if they were about to rob Gringotts.  
“I trust I’ll see you three in the game later, yes?” She said in a cold voice as they were exiting the classroom.  
“I have detention, ma’am. I imagine my friends will be there.” Dreogan made eye contact, as he replied in the same cold voice.  
“Oh, you are indeed correct, Mr. Gaunt.” She hid a faint smile.  
“B…” Dreogan restrained himself with a stare from Claudia.  
“Well, that went better than I thought it would.” Charles noted.  
“She knows.” Claudia voiced, making both boys loose colour.  
“Or suspects, but we don’t have a choice, Emerick’s time’s running out. We do it today.” Dreogan asserted.  
The rest of the day went by without further incident, if one discounted just how nervous Dreogan and Charles were.  
Anneke caught up with him on his way to the library for his final day of detention.  
“You’re not going to the game?” She had a smug look on her face.  
“It’s, my, last day of detention.” He said.  
“Oh yes, I forgot about your punishment. Is it true you punched Harold on the face?”  
Just then Ariana exited the library.  
“He had no fucking business telling the whole school that the bastard son of a… -he took a deep breath- who gave some genetic material and thus wants to call himself my father, raped my mum. No business whatsoever. So, yeah I punched his pathetic face.”  
It took Anneke a moment to reply while Ariana did her best to walk away fast.  
“You should watch that temper of yours, Dreogan. Next time you attack a student you might not get off it so easy.”  
“I did not attack my friend. That spell is one of my brother’s inventions.”  
“Your brother is dead!” Anneke said.  
“Even if that is true, it doesn’t mean he did not have followers or that his followers did not learn some of his spells, nor that they are all his age, or have kids.”  
“You can’t know that for sure.” She contended.  
“I don’t understand why you’re insisting so much on this? I want Azrail to be dead as much as any of you, but even if he is it means someone else in this school knew to cast that spell and it wasn’t me.” Dreogan exasperated.  
“Are you sure about that? I’d still be your friend if you did.” She said in a sickly-sweet voice.  
“What now? Enjoy the game, I hope Slytherin loses. Bye.” He entered the library, alone.  
Feeling rage bubbling inside him he went on with placing books in their shelves. “Go on, leave.” He kept whispering under his breath for the Librarian to leave for the Quidditch game.  
Meanwhile Claudia had retrieved the pot with the Mandragora seedling and was heading for the Hospital Wing.  
She had just left from Greenhouse One when she heard the sounds of rustling leaves to her left.  
“Stupefy!” A male teenage voice shouted.


	9. Chapter 9:  A book made of leaves

“Mr. Blake why are you not in the game?” Ives Jordan made Charles jump out of his skin. He shoved the shrinked oxygen tank in his pocket.  
“Going to the boy’s room, sir.” He lied.  
“Let me see what you have in your pockets.” Professor Jordan said. “come on, empty them.”  
Charles obeyed, with shaking hands.  
“What’s this?” Jordan examined the oxygen tank.  
“Just a toy sir, silly thing my younger brother got me for my birthday.” Charles tried his best to not look the lie he was conjuring forth.  
He felt Ives’ stern gaze on him as he tried to not panic, not to bolt in the other direction, but he did have a strong desire for the floor to open up and swallow him whole and be done with it.  
“Very well, off you go you don’t want to miss the game of the year, now.” Ives left, after handing him back the miniaturized oxygen tank.  
“Yes, sir.” Charles walked away, trying to walk as naturally and not display the stress he was under.  
Dreogan kept stealing glances at his watch, placing books on the shelves.  
The game had begun, and it was now only a matter of time before one of the two seekers caught the golden snitch and ended it all. Time was fleeing him fast.  
Not fifteen minutes later, Mr. Thorson stood up from behind his antique desk, the lustered wood glistening in the candle light.  
“Last day of detention, Mr. Gaunt?”  
“Yes, sir.”  
“I could help you finish up here, if you want to…” Thorson offered.  
“You look tired sir, I can finish this sir.”  
“I believe you are correct, Mr. Gaunt. I think I’ll let you finish this and go have a sit down. Ten minutes later he was asleep, snoring lightly.  
Dreogan waited five more minutes, for good measure then removing the token, he held it in his hand and walked over to the corridor ending in the gate to the restricted section.  
“Gates are bared the Headmistress said, but…these two boys got a token? Maybe the surviving books were placed elsewhere? And that’s why Mr. Thorson brings them the next day?” He thought, pressing the token against the lock. This is how it worked up until the last year, it should be how it worked now, if nothing had changed.  
For a second his heart seemed to stop, what if they had changed it since last year? Or had not had the time to re-place the spell or spells required for the token to unlock the metal-fortified wooden gates? Then all would have been for naught, and Emerick would most likely die or become an Inferi. No, he’d blow the gates away if he had to.  
“Where’s the damage? An explosion like that would not have been contained inside there.” Such magic going awry, capable of blowing away an entire section of the library…shouldn’t there be damage out here as well?” The gates unlocked to the token’s touch.  
With a hesitant push it creaked open, inviting him inside.  
He stepped in.  
A spherical room bathed in sun light from the skylights, one each above a columned arch supporting a domed ceiling. Below in rows, bookshelves.  
“No damage? No burned books? Broken glass?” Dreogan whispered, seeing no blast damage except for a black scorch mark in the center of the room. Above it a book, levitating encased in an enflamed symbol. Two wings on either side of what appeared to be a Greek Θ.  
“What’s inside the burning wings?” Dreogan stepped closer. “A book? That’s a book? Why is there no smoke from the burning wings? There is no heat emanating…” A million questions and then some flared through his mind, racing.  
He edged closer yet, to the book encased in flames, bright red and black flames.  
As if out of its own mind his hand stretched, wanting to touch that book, for reasons unknown to him at that moment, craving to open it.  
“I must find what I came in here for.” He pulled back his hand, inches away from the wings and the Θ.  
It did not take too much time for him to find a copy of “Advanced ways to make people hate each other; an essay on curse creation” in one of the bookshelves.  
“Exactly what my brother would love to read, but I don’t think this book is why he did what he did, in here.” He thought, grabbed the book and bolted for the Hospital Wing.  
Claudia and Charles waited for him just around the corner, out of the Aurors’ sight.  
“What happened to you?” He asked her, seeing her robes below her waist torn and shredded.  
“Oh nothing, Harold Nott attacked me, but I got him good.” She recounted, feeling good and displaying it. “He’ll be vomiting slugs for a week.”  
“He’ll probably need the Nurse to remove it.” Charles snickered.  
“Not important right now!” Dreogan remarked, feeling his heart thunder in his chest. “Do we have everything?” Charles and Claudia nodded, showing the oxygen tank and the pot with the juvenile Mandrake.  
“You got the book?” Charles asked, anxious.  
Dreogan lifted the book up.  
“You two sure you want to be here? Pretty sure everyone involved in this is getting expelled.” Dreogan told them.  
“We are with you mate, Emerick’s our friend too. They want to expel us for trying…or succeeding in saving him, so be it.” Charles shook his head solemnly.  
“What he said, plus I’ve never attacked an Auror before…let’s do this!” Claudia affirmed.  
“Earmuffs on, then!” Placing the earmuffs above their ears they walked to the entrance of the Hospital Wing.  
“You can’t go in.” One of the Aurors placed a hand in front of them.  
“If you insist.” Dreogan smiled a wicked smile, unearthing the Mandrake.  
The Aurors tried to cover their ears, to grab the screaming plant, in vain. One managed to fire off a spell, before fainting.  
“Well, that was interesting!” Dreogan said, after re-rooting the Mandragora.  
“Claudia’s out, she’s only stunned, her earmuffs must have been hit by the Auror’s spell. Go! You need to hurry, this won’t last for long!” Charles urged him, trying to make Claudia comfortable.  
Dreogan entered the Hospital Wing, with a nod.  
He found Emerick, placed the oxygen tank on the floor and enlarged it using the Engorgio spell. With fingers trembling from the adrenaline coursing in his veins he cast incendio onto the book and placed it in the tank, before resealing it. Next, he placed the mask around Emerick’s face.  
“Please, let this work.” He thought, opening the valve, fully. “Mucus ad Nauseam!” Finally, he cast the Curse of the Bogies on Emerick. “I hope a curse is a curse…and my brother did not mean anything more sinister…” He thought and stepped back.  
Not a minute later and Emerick groaned in pain, beads of sweat running down his forehead, and arms.  
“Hang in there, Emerick.”  
As time passed, Emerick begun to shake uncontrollably, sweat making it impossible for Dreogan to keep him still.  
“MR. GAUNT! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?!” Professor Horsewood bellowed.  
“You can expel me later, Professor, but for now I’m healing him, please just help me restraint him.” Dreogan didn’t even skip a beat.  
“Everte Statum!” Dreogan felt himself lifted off his feet and thrown back up against the wall.  
“Petrificus totalus!” The nurse came bursting in the room. “I leave for a minute!” She said catching her breath.  
With the full-body-bind curse cast on him, Emerick stopped convulsing.  
Everyone in the room, Dreogan, the Nurse and the Deputy Headmistress seemed frozen in their places, watching Emerick. Thick black smoke left his nostrils and mouth.  
“Unbelievable! Colour is returning to his lips and cheeks! My days, he is improving! You there!” The nurse directed her attention to Dreogan, who had risen to his feet. “What did you do?”  
“I burned a book of curses with magic flame, had him inhale the fumes and cursed him.”  
“That should have killed you both.” The Nurse remarked. “How is neither of you two dead?”  
“That’s something that would interest me to know, as well.” The Headmistress’ voice came from the entrance.  
They looked at her direction, she stood there, with an Auror at each side. If eyes could kill, theirs would have certainly murdered Dreogan more than once. Charles and Claudia stood to her left, trying to see if and what had happened to Emerick. Dreogan tried his best to convey he was alright, with his eyes.  
“I placed the burning book in the oxygen tank there.” He pointed at it. “And had him inhale it through the mask, ma’am.”  
“How did you know to do this?” The Headmistress asked him.  
“It is one of my brother’s invented spells. I know all of them, at least all he created until last year, and their effects. Intimately.”  
“I don’t believe you, kid If you know how to undo it, you know how to cast it.” One of the Aurors challenged him.  
“Could I have cast the killing curse? Or Crucio? This is just as complicated.”  
“Lies!” The Auror would not relent.  
Dreogan gazed at everyone’s faces before inhaling a deep breath. Exhaling it he removed first his robes and tie, then his shirt.  
Charles and Claudia, the Nurse and even Professor Horsewood gasped, Claudia clapping her hands on her mouth.  
There, naked from the waist up, Dreogan took a turn, revealing to them a body full of scars and marks. “I don’t know how to cast that spell, but I do know its effects, and the effects of all of my brother’s inventions quite well.” He said, making direct eye contact with the Auror.  
He put his shirt back on.  
“If you’re going to expel me, get it over with.” He told the Headmistress presenting his wand to her.  
“Expel you? No, I don’t think so. If you three would please, come with me.” She told the Aurors and Professor Horsewood.  
“What happened? Why am I not getting expelled?” He thought aloud.  
“What?” He asked, Charles and Claudia’s eyes still very much locked on him.  
“What? What! You, body, scars…”  
“You are hyperventilating Mr. Blake. Get a grip on yourself, you are not the person their brother tortured.” The Nurse admonished him, after a good-sized smack on the back of his head.  
“You’re right, I’m sorry.” He said, lowering his head feeling ashamed.  
“Don’t sweat it. What about Emerick?”  
“He’ll make a full recovery, by the looks of it. I think he should be up and about in a day or two. Now, I have to ask you three to leave and let him rest.”  
“How did Nott know about our plan?” Claudia whispered as they exited the Hospital Wing.  
“He either overheard us, or he didn’t know and just followed you, wanting to get back at us for his stupidity costing him being able to play Quidditch for the rest of the year.  
“I’m famished!” Charles announced.  
“You’re always famished.” Dreogan laughed. “The restricted section…it’s not damaged at all, except for a weird floating symbol encasing a book in flames in the center of the room.” He whispered to them, not wanting the Headmistress, Aurors and Diana Horsewood to listen.  
“You don’t think it’s what your brother wanted last year, do you?”  
“I don’t know but I have this nagging feeling at the back of my head that this is the Book of Leaves, the real one, and somehow I’ve seen it before.”  
“Would make sense. He tries to steal it last year, fails then Headmistress Adams and the ministry create a decoy and place it in the Department of Mysteries to throw him off the scent just in case he’s not really dead, while the real one’s still here in Hogwarts.” Claudia reasoned.  
“Yeah, only now whoever stole the fake one knows it’s not the authentic one.”  
“I need food.” Charles stated.  
“You always need food.” It was Claudia’s turn to tease him.  
“I’m a healthy, growing boy, food is required!” He laughed.  
“B…”  
“Boys, yes we know!” Dreogan and Charles interrupted her simultaneously.  
“Emerick’s safe, you were right.” Claudia said.  
“I hope I’m wrong, but this is where things will start going bad, really bad.” Dreogan hunched his shoulders, looking gloom.  
“Why? You saved his life!”  
“And now if he is alive, he knows…knows that someone used one of his spells and that I of all people defeated it.”  
“Why is that a bad thing?” Claudia failed to comprehend.  
“There are no words capable of describing just how angry he is going to be, or how vengeful.”  
“How bad could it be? You, a first year defeated him, just now.” Claudia persisted.  
Dreogan snorted bitterly. “He thinks himself the, true, angel of Death, what do you think?”  
“May we leave, ma’am?” Charles asked the Headmistress still chatting away with the Aurors and Professor Horsewood.  
She just waved for them to go, without replying.  
Later that night, Dreogan could only think of one thing. The book encircled by fire, levitating in the center of the room of the Restricted section. He changed side, shifting from left to right, placing the pillow under his head, above his head, folding it, unfolding it. Nothing worked.  
Frustrated and with a groan he got out of bed and headed to the library. He did not bother changing from his pajamas.  
Taking care to not get caught by patrolling Professors and Prefects he navigated the dark corridors to the Library.  
Once there he used the token, for a second time that day, and entered the restricted section.  
He stepped right under the wings covered in tendrils of red and black flames.  
Extending his hand, he touched it.


	10. Chapter 10:  Thanatos’ Calling

It felt cool to the touch and strangely tactile.  
With a whooshing sound the wings and Θ vanished into ash and mist leaving behind the book levitating midair. The scorch mark below still there.  
Dreogan was lifted off his feet, levitated to the same height as the book, his hands stretched by his sides.  
Someone screamed in the distance, his mind flooding with repeating images. A book’s pages flipping, symbols illuminated then himself dying. A book appeared then another and another, one on top of the other, forming a pile. They all burned before a tree sprouted from the soil, growing until its branches entwine with the roots. A river of leaves and stars is flowing away from him, his gaze follows it until he can see the back of himself, then he flew on top of it, watching it from a distance, the river forming the symbol of eternity.  
Again, and again those pictures replayed in his mind for what seemed an eternity.  
He felt his legs touch the ground, kneeling. Coming to his feet he saw Claudia and Charles to his left and right, trying to help him up. Trying to walk him away from the book, open and levitating, weird, unknown symbols starting to glow silver in its pages of broad, shinning leaves.  
“Come, Dreogan. We must leave this place! I don’t like this at all!” Charles tried to talk to him.  
Dreogan shook his shoulders free. “No, I must know why my brother desires this book so much. I must! I can use it against him!” He released himself from their hands and in two strides he extended his hand, ready to touch the book, to bring it down and try and read it.  
Just as his fingertips touched the cover, the book closed shut flaring up, the wings and Θ reappeared covered in bright red and black flames.  
Unfazed by this development Dreogan pressed his hand against the wings, right in the center of the Θ.  
A violent explosion of bright red light sent them flying back against the walls, shaking the whole room, throwing books of their shelves.  
A new set of repeating images burst in his mind. Scales in gold, imbalanced, shield carved with the symbol of eternity, scales balanced, shield broken. Repeating again and again. “That sounds like my voice, screaming.” He thought passing into oblivion.  
Regaining consciousness, he felt a soft, fuzzy feeling under him, and a soft, cool sheet on him.  
“W…what happened? Where am I?” He groaned, his eyes trying to focus.  
“As per usual…you got yourself into trouble, proved that telling a bunch of kids not to do something leads them into doing that precise thing you demanded not do, and that the book of leaves is no longer safe in Hogwarts.” He heard the Headmistress’ voice above him. “You are in the Hospital Wing, Mr. Gaunt...Dreogan.”  
Dreogan looked about, the Headmistress, Nurse, Charles and Claudia stood above and around him. He saw them all in multicoloured auras. Charles flashed yellow, red and blue and in that order. Claudia, red, blue, yellow and red. The Nurse red, white and brighter white while the Headmistress flashed black, green and brighter black.  
He had no idea what the coloured auras or the sequence of them meant, but he just knew they were very important.  
“I went alone, I didn’t want to get anyone in danger or trouble, not after what we did earlier…what day is it?”  
“Only the evening has passed, it has just dawned outside.” Mary told him. “You have some very loyal friends, Mr. Gaunt.” She looked less than pleased, no matter how her voice tried to hide it.  
“You are predictable, mate.” Charles chuckled. “It was obvious you were going back to the Restricted section for that book, so me and Claudia waited outside the library, hidden in the shadows.”  
“Breaking curfew and about four or five more school rules in the process, Mr. Blake. Five points from each of you.”  
“What’ll happen to the book?” Dreogan queried.  
“That I’m afraid I cannot tell you, but it’ll be safe behind a web of spells, illusions and other protective wards.” The Headmistress shook her head. “Charles here tells me you touched the book? What happened?”  
“Nothing, it sent me…us back, erupting in an explosion. Next thing I remember is waking up here.”  
“I see, perhaps no one’s meant to read the book of leaves of knowledge.” She asserted.  
“Ma’am is this what happened with my brother?”  
“In part. As you know your father claimed Azrail was the mastermind behind the Imperium Arcana?” Dreogan nodded.  
“Your brother was already in the library when the Aurors arrived from the Ministry, wanting to detain and interrogate him.”  
“In the ensuing battle he was killed, along with my sister and everyone else in the library, in an explosion from a curse gone awry, but…”  
“The Restricted section is undamaged, the books intact and the truth mixed with a lie to protect the book he covets so much. The truth is he came out victorious from the battle, knocked me out, defeated Professor Jordan and killed everyone in the library before he blasted open the doors to the Restricted section and touched that book.”  
“Which caused the explosion…but if it’s the same thing that happened with me…I am still very much alive. Why am I alive if he’s not? I am right, aren’t I? he’s alive!”  
“I imagine he is feeling quite rather frustrated at not being in possession of the Book of leaves.” There was an evil smirk in Professor Adams’ lips.  
“I wouldn’t know, ma’am.”  
“One can only guess, considering the lengths he has gone thus far to acquire it. Breaking into the Ministry alone is not an easy feat by any means, but followed by him going to the Department of Mysteries? Daring. He may be…damaged but he has guts.”  
“He is driven by a level of stubbornness and single-minded obsession to get his way, that borderlines…insanity.”  
“It’s a slim line, the one between genius and insanity.” She said in reply.  
She took a moment before talking again.  
“I wonder, does that come from your father? Or is it a reaction to him?”  
Dreogan didn’t know what to respond, he didn’t want to say anything more to her, so he just shrugged.  
“I’ll leave you to rest.” She left, breaking the eye contact she had maintained through their conversation.  
“She was by no means fishing for information.” Claudia said, the moment the Headmistress was out, and the door closed behind her.  
“You know my theory…”  
“No one believed you about Emerick and yet you were correct. So, I say if you think, somehow, the Headmistress is being controlled or impersonated by your father, then let us prove or disprove it.” Charles said.  
Dreogan smiled warmly, nodding.  
“Considering he was in Azkaban until recently, when could he have done it?”  
“Before. He used to be in Hogwarts’ board of Governors for a short while, he would have had access and opportunity.”  
“Headmistress Adams isn’t exactly what you’d call an easy target though, why would he? Why not try for the Minister or another high ranking official within the Ministry?”  
“He started the Imperium Arcana attacks and acts of violence from within Hogwarts and other schools of magic throughout the world. Influencing young students who were gullible or naïve enough to believe him, and my siblings. Being in the Board of Governors gave him power and deniability and allowed him to blame others for his deeds.”  
“True, it’d make sense to have the Headmasters or Headmistresses under his control. That gives us something to start on.” Claudia nodded.  
“And I’ll continue on the Book of Leaves. I’m already researching the Old Gods.” Charles said.  
“You don’t think they were Gods for real, do you?”  
“Nah, but they were really powerful wizards and witches, and each sought mastery over magic, perhaps different kinds of magic.”  
“And I shall try and get through the last few weeks of school without getting expelled.” Dreogan laughed. “How’s Emerick?”  
“He came to earlier. I think Professor Horsewood and Aurors have been questioning him since.” Charles answered him.  
“We’ll let you rest, then. Emerick said he wanted to talk to you later.”  
“I feel fine.” Dreogan tried standing up from the bed.  
“If you even think about leaving before I discharge you, I will give you real reason to be in here, Mr. Dreogan Gaunt.” The nurse waved her right index finger at him.  
“I’ll see you later, mate.” Charles snorted.  
Emerick found him the next day, in the clockwork courtyard, studying for the upcoming exams.  
“Hullo!”  
“Hey Emerick, I hope you’re okay?” They bumped knuckles.  
“Fine as a fiddle! I wanted to thank you, you know for saving my life. Charles told me everything that’s transpired since I was cursed.”  
“I didn’t do anything...” Dreogan blushed, feeling uncomfortable.  
“Horsebollocks you didn’t!” Emerick exclaimed. “You saved my life. We were friends before, I was hesitant I’ll admit, but we were friends. Now, we’re friends for life. You, Charles, me and Claudia. We need a name for our gang!”  
“So, we’re a gang now? Sounds sinister.” Dreogan let out a soft chuckle.  
“Of course, we are. Just need a name now.”  
“I’m sure Charles will come up with something hilarious for it.” Dreogan smiled.  
“I told Horsewood and the Aurors it wasn’t you who did it, I remember being hit from behind, and you weren’t behind me. I told them, but I don’t think they wanted much to believe me.”  
“Thanks. I’m just glad I remembered the anti-curse for that thing and it worked.”  
“Would I have really turned into an Inferi?”  
“Yeah…”  
“I prefer death.”  
“I wouldn’t let it happen…can I ask you something?”  
“Sure, what’s up?”  
“When you were out…do you remember anything from that time? I know you weren’t asleep or unconscious, not really.”  
Emerick’s face darkened. “I do...I just, I can’t discuss it, not yet.”  
“I know…when you feel ready, know I’m here. Okay?” Emerick nodded.  
“Wanna study with me? The sun’s brilliant.” Dreogan offered and Emerick sat cross-legged next to him.  
Three weeks later, they were eating breakfast before their final exam, with everyone looking forward to the summer vacations, people making plans and arranging visits.  
Emerick, Claudia, Charles and Dreogan sat in the Ravenclaw table, wolfing down pancakes and eggs and bacon.  
Anneke sat in the Slytherin table, talking to Ariana, behind them. “Yeah, he’s a really super cool friend who I talk with for absolutely everything, unlike some people.” She told Ariana who giggled.  
An owl swooped in the Great Hall, landing between him and Charles, holding an envelope in her left talon, sealed with two wings and a Θ between them, addressed to Charles.  
Dreogan saw it just as Charles was ready to retrieve it from the bird’s claws.  
In a lightning-fast motion Dreogan snatched the sealed envelope before Charles could touch it.  
“Hey!” Charles was ready to complain when Dreogan doubled over, whimpering in pain, the sealed letter clutched in his fist.  
Emerick and Claudia shot up, worried. “What’s wrong?” Charles asked, making to remove the envelope from his hand.  
Dreogan pushed him back with his other hand, stood up and staggered out of the Great Hall.  
“Dreogan? What’s wrong!” Emerick shouted after him.  
“Professors!” Claudia yelled, running after him.  
Dreogan run out into the corridor and from there to the courtyard. Emerick, Claudia and Charles in tow, followed by other curious students and Professors.  
Dreogan stood in the center of the courtyard, near the fountain statues and released the envelope into the air. It levitated there for a moment before bursting into flames, forming two wings with the Θ between them.  
Those gathered there gasped as the flames turned black and the wings grew in size. Dreogan’s hand connected to it by a strand-vortex of black flames.  
The wings flared up sending tendrils everywhere. Dreogan screamed in agony, holding his tethered hand with his free one, falling on his knees on the ground.  
“What is this? Dreogan!” Charles asked, panicked. He tried to hold Dreogan by his shoulder.  
“No! Don’t!” He cried too late. Charles’ fingers touched his shoulder. He was instantly sent flying back a good two or three meters, screaming in agony.  
Dreogan tried standing up. “You coward!” He yelled at the burning symbol in the air.  
It flared up, making him whimper.  
“You have not changed…” Dreogan tried rubbing his eyes on his shirt.  
A moment later laughter, cold, malicious laughter emanated from within the burning wings.  
“You think this is funny, brother?” He fell back on his knees as more tendrils shot out.  
“Do you remember this spell, half-brother of mine?” A shrill, cold, silk-smooth voice spoke from within the airborne wings. “I have improved it since you last experienced it.”  
“What was it you called this one, Azrail? Death’s calling?” Dreogan’s voice broke.  
“Thanatos’ Calling, for I am the Angel of Death made manifest. Now it won’t just make you suffer. No, now it’ll also syphon life energy from you while making everyone around you suffer.” He cackled.  
Dreogan turned his head around to see Charles, and others writhing on the ground in pain, their hands connected to him through aethereal, black and red tendrils of fire.  
Diana Horsewood, Ives Jordan, Willows and Cooper, all of them were trying to destroy the burning wings. In vain. No matter what they threw at it, it wasn’t going away.  
“Water…try throwing water at it…” He cried to a nearby second-year Ravenclaw girl.  
She looked confounded for a moment, then with a stride she tried to use her hands, forming a bowl with them and throw the water from the fountain at the wings, two meters away.  
The voice from beyond the fiery symbol in the sky broke out laughing while Dreogan looked at her with menacing, pained eyes. “ARE YOU JOKING ME?! USE YOUR FUCKING WAND!” The line connecting his hand to the wings flared up causing him to clutch his hand closer to his chest, bending over his knees in pain.  
Using his hands for support he tried standing up, fell over and tried again managing to take two steps before kneeling over.  
“Oh, no you don’t, brother!” The Incorporeal voice said, the wings and tendrils became brighter causing Dreogan’s hand to bleed.  
Another step, and another and another and each time he’d fall back on the ground. Tears falling down his cheeks.  
“What are you doing?” Claudia cried.  
Diana Horsewood waved her wand, and all of the fountain’s water deluged the fiery symbol dissipating it some.  
“Thanatos’ Calling…needs…needs…life…stop…kiss…must walk to it…” He stuttered barely coherently.  
Claudia knew she couldn’t touch him, help him. She pushed back her hair with her hand, turning her head to Professor Umberto.  
“Professor! Levitate him to it, please!” She yelled pointing at the fiery wings.  
Professor Umberto nodded and with a flick of his wrist Dreogan was lifted off the ground and just inches away from the wings. Tilting his head, he placed a singular kiss on the burning wings.  
In an instant the wings vanished in a vortex of ash.  
Professor Umberto ended the levitating spell, Dreogan’s feet touching the ground he collapsed on it.  
“Well...this was rather unpleasant.” He moaned.  
“Dreogan! Are you okay?” Claudia run to him, holding his head in her hands, resting it on her lap.  
“No, not really…ow…”  
“Where does it hurt?” Claudia tried to stop the bleeding on his hand.  
“Everywhere.” Dreogan quipped.  
“When does it not hurt?”  
“When I’m not breathing.”  
“Jerk! I’m trying to help you.” Dreogan tried to force a laugh.  
“My hand hurts the most, though. He raised it, blackened, torn and bleeding it looked as if a predatory animal had taken to it.  
“If life made the symbol vanish…should I kiss your hand?” Claudia hesitated to touch it, not knowing if she should cast Episkey on it or not.  
“It’s physical injury, part of the spell has the same effects as Sectusempra. I don’t think kissing it will make it go away.” Claudia blushed.  
“Help me up, please.”  
“We need to get you to the Hospital Wing.” She placed a hand under his armpits, trying to aid him.  
“I need to stand up for that.”  
“Jerk.” They laughed together.  
“Let me see your hand.” Emerick came close.  
“Episkey!” He said, pointing his wand at Dreogan’s torn hand. The bleeding stopped, but the hand remained badly injured.  
“Thank you.” Emerick nodded, placing a hand under his other, free armpit.  
“These people need to get to the Hospital Wing as well.” Dreogan said looking around at all the students, and a teacher or two, crawling on the floor, groaning in pain.  
“Mrs. Russo, get Dreogan to the Hospital Wing.” Diana Horsewood told them, her otherwise meticulously styled golden hair, now looked disheveled. “We will take care of the rest.” Claudia and Emerick nodded. With a sigh Dreogan started walking supported by his friends.  
“Charles?” Dreogan searched for his friend, they were nearing the Hospital Wing’s doors.  
“I’m here…” Said a voice to their left. “I think your brother underestimated his own spell, and he’s a psychopath.”  
“And then some, what do you mean? About the spell?”  
“I feel drained…I don’t think it was siphoning only your life energy.” Charles was pale, his eyes portraying how tired he felt.  
“That’s…a scary thought.”  
“So much suffering…Azrail’s keeping me true to my name, curse him.” Charles didn’t have the strength to ask what Dreogan meant.  
“Damn, does this mean the final exam is canceled?” Claudia thought aloud.  
“Postponed, from what I heard.” Ethel, a Hufflepuff girl interjected.  
“I hoped…”  
“You? You hoped an exam would be cancelled?” Charles couldn’t believe his ears.  
Claudia shrugged with a quick smirk.  
“If you two are done playing, my hand could use the nurse.”  
With the workload dumbed on her, it took the Nurse two days to get Dreogan fully mended and healed.  
“Have you seen today’s Daily Prophet issue?” Charles asked him, giving him a copy.  
“Oh god, now what?”

 

Cillian and Azrail Gaunt now feature Magical Law Enforcement Agency’s top two most wanted. Manhunt underway!

After an attack on the students of Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry two days ago, thankfully without any fatalities, and the subsequent investigation and interrogation of some of the students present in the attack, by the Magical Law Enforcement Agency, Aurors from the ministry acquired a permit to search the Gaunt-Lestrange Manor near Carlisle in Cumbria.  
Evidence found in the search of the manor point to Cillian Gaunt being the mastermind behind the Imperium Arcana, despite his claims last year that it was the brainchild and effort of his eldest son, Azrail. The Authorities already wanted to interrogate Mr. Cillian Gaunt after the attack on our Offices, earlier this year.  
A widespread manhunt is underway for both father and son, throughout the UK and Ireland.

 

The article spanned three pages, explaining what information had been released to the press, as well as the entire turbulent history of the Gaunt family.  
“I am not mentioned in there, at all. That’s something.”  
“They won’t find them, will they?” There was alarm in Claudia’s voice.  
“They haven’t faced anything quite like my brother for a hundred and twenty years. No, they won’t find them. They have no idea what they’re up against.” Dreogan confirmed, looking gloom.  
“What can we do?” Emerick asked.  
“We’re kids! Nothing, what could we do? Except hope I’m wrong.” Dreogan tossed the newspaper away. “For one thing, you know this manor they’re mentioning in the article? It’s not the one I grew up in, I didn’t even know it existed up until now. My father has spent a good decade of his life acquiring property all over the world. I grew up in a…place near Cambridge. That’s where I spent the first eleven years of my life, with father and siblings. They raided that place as well, though, last year, and god only knows how many more places my father has, so…”  
“Just how much wealth does your family have?” Emerick said, astounded.  
“For well over two hundred years the Gaunts fell from one financial ruin to another, even during Voldemort’s years, then thirty or so years my father changed all of that and I don’t want to know how. Now, I…I don’t know exactly what and how much is under the family name, but it’s a lot and if I had any say in the matter we’d have nothing, I’d give it all away. I want nothing to do with riches and wealth acquired in the ways my father acquired them.”  
“We can be there for one another.” Charles said. “That’s the one thing we can do.”  
“That won’t stop my brother from murdering and torturing people.”  
“Even the worst bullies can be stopped if we stand against them and if we stand for one another. What other choice is there?” Charles insisted.  
Dreogan saw Anneke standing in the far corner of the corridor, near the Great Hall’s entrance with Ariana and Harold.  
Their eyes caught him as well, Anneke and Harold grinned sarcastically, yet Ariana’s smile vanished and looked away as if she wanted not to be there.  
“You know…you’re right. You can stand against them, or you can join them and stand for nothing.” He agreed with Charles, speaking a tad louder than he had to.  
“Come on, let’s go. The smarmy slime can only be tolerated for so long before I have to vomit.”  
It was time for Anneke’s smirk to vanish.  
“Only Defense against the Dark Arts exam left, right?” Emerick asked, as they walked past Anneke and Harold, who avoided Claudia’s triumphant eyes.  
“Yeah, then tonight we celebrate the first year in over a decade where anyone managed to defeat Slytherin in the House Cup and tomorrow we’re off for summer vacations!” Claudia grinned.  
“About that, how do you all want to come spend some time together in my place in Cornwall?” Charles asked, timidly. “Please say yes! I can’t stand another summer alone with my younger brothers!” He joked.  
“Deal! Now that my father is a criminal hunted by the Ministry, brother too, I don’t have anyone to stop me.” Dreogan beamed.  
“I’ll ask my parents, shouldn’t be a problem though.” Emerick said in his usual serious voice.  
“My parents are taking me to Venice, Italy for two weeks, then I’m visiting family in New York. After that I should be free to come visit!” Claudia said, smiling.  
“Cool! This summer is going to be freaking amazing!” Charles felt so happy he could fly.  
“Now that my family isn’t in the Manor, or able to dictate my life, yes, it will be!” Dreogan could not stop smiling, the sun on his face, the sand and sea beneath him, him playing with his friends, for once unhindered by his family. His mind raced.  
They walked to their last exam, fully excited and in anticipation of the summer vacations before them.

End of Book 1.


End file.
